
Class _.?S t^^LS - 
Book„ .._U(^Lrj_ 



Copyright N°_ 



(9^3 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



F RAG M E NT S 
PEN PICTURES 

AND 

MEMORABILIA 

BY ■/ 

S. J. M'M. H. 



COLUMBUS, OHIO 

|)ti61t£il)eli bj) tbc atttI)or 
1903 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received 

MAR 21 '903 

Copynght Entry 

CLASS CU XXc. No, 

COPY B. 









COPYRIGHT, 1902, BY SARAH J. HUNTINGTON 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



'X 



^^ 



SDetitcation 

Between the centuries my songs I lay 

Upon thy attars, dearest frietids of mine, 
The memorabitia of^oves divine, 



*\ ^ And lays of life, along lifers changeful way; 

5 (S -f 

Imprinted on the page, in black array. 
Less fortunate, I fear, than line on line 
I tear, and to the cache-morceau consign, 

Or flames consume, and roll in smoke away. 

Yet heart-throbs will your kind hearts move, 
and may 
Invoke to pure intent to please. In fine, 
To hide ^neath rose-leaves and sweet eg- 
lantine. 
All faltering feet, and false rhymes run 

astray. 
Thy precious time and lenient thought, I pray. 
And thou art pleased, then, happy, I am 
thine. 



Contentjsf 



PACK 

Dedication iii 

Fragments 3 



PEN PICTURES 

The Frost on the Panes .... 33 

The Eglantine 36 

The Faces in the Trees .... 40 

Capri 48 

In the Bleak Country 59 

The Beechwood 62 

Cloud-Land 65 

Her Royal and Imperial Majesty on her 

Eightieth Birthday, May 24, 1899 . . 68 

L'Envoi 71 

Leto, Mother of the Morn. ... 72 

Gratitude and Hope 74 

The Old House 76 

February •j'j 

April Flowers 78 

Reveille ........ 79 

May 81 

YoKO 83 

Gold to Gold 84 

Disappointment 86 

V 



Contents 



The Month to wed 87 

A June Evening in London ... 90 

June 92 

The Birds 93 

Night 94 

The Olea 96 

The Passing of All Things ... 97 

The Deserted Mansion .... 99 

Adieu 101 

Frailty 102 

The July Sun 103 

The Summer Clouds 104 

Silent the Night 197 

October 108 

Tell me, tell me, if you know . . .109 

Away to the Sea no 

lo 113 

Autumn Days 115 

Winter Passing 117 

The Thread of Life . . . . . 118 

MEMORABILIA 

MAHONBURN 121 

The Meadow Brook 122 

The Beech by the Brook . . . .152 

The Pines 154 

vi 



Contentfi 



Rhea in "Fairy Fingers" . . . .157 

Crab-Apple Blossoms and Honey Bees . 159 

The Truants 162 

The Morning breaks 168 

The Old Man 169 

The God of Day 174 

Sweet Mignonette 176 

Roses 177 

Pastoral Verses 178 

GOOD-BY 186 

Mother 187 

Invitation 189 

Impromptu 192 

Rose-Leaves 194 

The Swan of Avon 196 

Mrs. E. B. B 199 

L'Envoi . . . . . . . . 202 

Eliza 203 

A Drop of Bitterness 206 

To R. L. P. 208 

In Memory of Mrs. E. B 211 

Dear M. L 213 

Deposed 215 

Baby Helen 222 

Paraphrase 224 

The Sweetest Songs die on the Air . 225 
vii 



Contents 



Mein Leedle Yacob 227 

Rondeau 228 

A Child's Faith and Fear . . . 229 

Ye Good Peppermint 231 

My Symphonies 233 

True Charity 236 

April 238 

Sonnet 240 

The Eternal City 243 

The Lady Isabelle 245 

The Portrait ...... 247 

Sleep 249 

The Wind 251 

The Miser 255 

The Sabbath 256 

The Debutante's Ball 258 

What shall be our National Flower? 260 

Sweet Singing Birds 263 

The Awakening 265 

In Quest of Claytonias 267 

Footprints 269 

Her Ladyship's Luncheon . . . .271 

After the Storm 273 

Be Grateful for the Life that is . . 275 

Carpe Diem 278 

New Year's Eve 279 

viii 



Contents 



The Critics 


. 281 


October 


. . 284 


Pan and Syrinx .... 


. 286 


Illusions 


. 290 


A Lady, Old, Infirm . 


• 294 


Xmas, 1896 


. . 298 


The Debutante .... 


. 300 


After a Summer Shower 


. . 302 


Darkness broods .... 


• 304 


Midnight between the Years . 


. . 306 


What will become of Thee? . 


. 308 


Brood not upon the past . 


• • 309 


Ladies Only 


. 310 


Fantasies 


. . 312 


When night comes down . 


• 314 


The Portent of Peace . 


• • 317 


The Voices of the Night . 


. 318 


A Feather of a Bird's Wing 


. . 321 


The years that have flown . 


• 323 


The War, July, 1898 . . . , 


• • 325 


Bon Voyage 


• 330 


On Mountain Heights . 


• • 338 


Such eyes are they . 


• 339 


The Robins have come . 


• • 341 



fragmmtjS 



fragments 




NEVER valued much the com- 
mon clay, 
Or thought much of the varied 
forms it may 
Pass through, till Omar's Rubaiyat led me 
To thinking of the mouldings in my way. 

Now jugs, and jars, and vases, potter's 

ware. 
Are subjects of solicitude and care ; 
And each I sound, and listen to its tone. 
For who knows whose most precious clay 

is there ? 

To pots, and bowls, and pitchers, we may 

come. 
The plainest, and most beauteous, to the 

thrum 

3 



iFrafftnents 



Of trying fingers on their bulging sides, 
May answer cracked, or clear as sound- 
ing drum. 

Should potter make of clay of mine a 

vase 
And know I what I am, as what I was, 
Tap lightly ! If I am what I would be, 
By sweet soprano sound you shall know 



How many things are good that are de- 
cried 
By some fools, and by others deified ! 
The wine, for instance, in the Holy Writ, 
Is one with life's essentials classified. 

Who dares denounce it wholly, when, with 

oil. 
And milk, and flour of wheat, for which 

men toil, 

4 



iFraptente 



Salt, iron, honey, all for man's use named, 
To exclude the grape's blood is a foolish 
foil. 

What evil in the spirit of the vine ? 
Control false appetite, the fault is thine. 
Be temperate, eat, drink of what is good, 
Both mind and body are refreshed with 
wine. 

The muse of Teos had a single theme, 

Wine's apotheosis his song and dream ; 

So Petrarch was with Laura's love pos- 
sessed ; 

They either loved, or feigned a love ex- 
treme : 

For wine or beauty neither knew a 

mean, 
Khayyam with humor exquisite, you 've 

seen, 

5 



jFraffmcnts 



Could laud the wine and animate the clay, 
And lose himself in solemn thought be- 
tween. 

Khayyam thought being ended here ; who 

knows ? 
The truth the future only will disclose. 
Like him enjoy, and love the life that is ; 
As to the future let your mind repose. 

So many Holy Writs and creeds most 
strict, 

Each bigots have, and sticklers who con- 
flict; 

And they o'er whom the higher powers 
have sway 

Are censured that the creeds they inter- 
dict. 

Some egotists, who God commanding, 
say, 



iFrapwntfi 



Do this, do that, O Lord ! when they 

would pray, 
Come, bless us now ! demand imperative : 
Such men decide where we shall go, where 

they. 



I kissed a babe upon its damask lips, 
Felt on my face its fondling finger tips : 
An angelus divine ; but in life's race 
The human will divinity eclipse. 

The shore may add one grain more to its 

sand, 
The sea may swell when showers sweep 

the land ; 
So, child, as one 'mid myriads of men, 
Thy soul a short space waits on this 

world's strand. 

Short space, prophetic word. The infant 
died. 

7 



jFrag:OTtntfii 



As grain of sand, or drop on ocean's 

tide 
Swept from this life, the little cherub's 

clay 
To clay returned. Its soul to what allied ? 

They who most learned are, but least think 

so. 
Are lost to learn whence are we, whither 

go? 
But he who knows but little, this he knows, 
Nor cares he what the changing creeds 

disclose. 



For one, whose casket grown so frail and 

old 
The soul it could not longer safely hold, 
Within her kindly bosom her cold form 
This day I asked of Mother Earth to 

fold. 

8 



Jraffmentfi 



When moon and stars light night's celes- 
tial bowl, 

Then toward the silent spot turn, when 
you stroll ; 

A rose near her six feet of earth will 
blow ; 

Pluck it, and list to whisper of her soul. 

This soul once loved its tenement of clay, 
And of it took most precious care, and 

they 
About her cared for it, and what it housed, 
And would that here it animate might 

stay. 

Perhaps the great Rejuvenator may 
This re-incarnate at some future day. 
When it has passed through processes un- 
told 
And reached a state to fashion and re- 
mould. 

9 



iFraffmentfi 



But aeons many ere that time arrives, 
And many change of forms, and changing 

lives, 
Till trace of the old clay will disappear. 
Save sound responsive of burnt clay sur- 



I go one way, and others follow soon ; 
In youth, some in old age, some at life's 

noon, 
All go one way, and to the self-same end. 
Nor one, nor all conjoined can change the 

trend. 

Each spring new blossoms to the garden 

brings, 
The world-soul moving in the dust of 

things 
Puts life into the dormant elements. 
And beauty, bursting bonds, from black 

mould springs, 



JFrafftnentfii 



And bees and butterflies burst winter 

bands, 
And forth they fly, undaunted, in new 

lands, 
And drink sweet wine from out the flower 

cups, 
Nor question why or whither run life's 

sands. 

The grand procession of mankind must 
change. 

One passes out, another in the range 

Appears, whence, whither, or to nothing- 
ness 

None better than another knows. How 
strange ! 

Impelled by hidden force, relentless law. 
Or will, the mandate forth, with solemn 

awe 
The everlasting caravan moves on 
II 



jFrapicntB 



From dawn to night, mayhap from night 
to dawn. 

If life eternal is, 't is well, 't is well ! 

If only one escape that place called 

Hell; 
But, for the apple-tempted in the garden, 
Far better were annihilation's knell. 

If night eternal is, life blotted out, 
Alas ! in this, what have you been about ? 
Ah, haste to finish this with great eclat. 
Lest they, who wait, your memory shall 
flout. 



Let old things go ! Forget the past ca- 
rouse. 
The stupid sermons over which you drowse, 
Put by with parted years all thought of 
pain, 

12 



iFraffinents 



Cast off old clothes, and fly the old, old 
house. 

Suppress complaint, and stifle groans and 

gloom, 
O'ershadowing evil black as raven's 

plume ! 
Ignore thy age, and memories far back, 
And for fresh, new, and pleasing things 

make room. 

Thou brooding sage, thy past, instinct 
with life. 

With fruit of youtli, romance, and loves full 
rife. 

Will not return ! Embalm its dear re- 
mains, 

With its ennobling virtues, with its stains. 

But ere thou draw the pall o'er thy dead 
past, 

13 



jFtapiente 



Beside the bier weep once, that be the 

lastj 
Anoint the corse with nard, with unctuous 

balm 
Surround with incense from the censer 

cast. 

The tomb be lined with balsam leaves and 
bay, 

Ere comes the cortege, toward the close 
of day. 

To lay the corse beneath the cypress 
shade ; 

When, turn, wise sage, and go thy cheer- 
ful way. 

Be youthful, joyful, to the verge of time, 
Thy merry heart renew with rune and 

rhyme. 
Drink purest water, lave in perfumed bath. 
Eat moderately, so preserve thy prime, 
14 



iFraffmentfif 



When in your sanctum Sacred Writs you 

read, 
From them derive what formulates a 

creed, 
Belief in demigods, or gods, or God, 
With laws and morals and with Christ 

agreed, — 

Then science shows the tangle and the 

knots. 
Past ages' unearthed script your weak 

faith blots ; 
From things unknowable you turn to 

muse 
On potter's clay, on pitchers, bowls, and 

pots. 



With what imagined concepts Plato played, 
With One, and Other, Many, Some por- 
trayed, 

15 



jFtrag:ments 



And moral attributes personified ! 

As spinning spiders they one's brain invade. 

Now, minds take up those concepts, an- 
cient myths. 

And gather flotsam from the fiords and 
friths 

Of times remote; but what they find or 
fathom 

Of th' Infinite is but as broken withes. 

Leave myths the learned for the fool devise, 

That he by faith must follow, without eyes ; 

Leave falsehood, soul of mine; be not. de- 
ceived, 

But know that simple truth needs no dis- 
guise. 



Then He who made the worlds cannot 
condone 

i6 



jFraffmentfi 

The curious Eve's small sin ! And she, 

alone, 
Unpaired, the curse of Arbiter must 

bear! 
Her sex must all for this one sin atone ! 

O daring muse that guides the pen, be- 
ware 

To question time's impressions, lest to 
snare 

The innocent, whose minds with myths 
imbued 

Shall with this sin its consequence com- 
pare. 



The structure, form, of the primordial 

cell 
None yet has known, nor origin can tell 
In which the protoplasmic life begins 
Evolving man, inherent sins, as well. 
17 



I 



Jrapientfi 



That sin with flesh and into flesh doth 

grow 
The so-called orthodox believe and 

know. 
E'en from the first faint wail when life 

wakes up, 
May follow joy oft more of sin and woe. 



Alas ! that morn should pass so soon to 
noon, 

And rose and violet should droop and 
swoon, 

That summer heat the verdure should con- 
sume, 

And fade and waste the beauty and per- 
fume. 

The cooler autumn will revive the rose. 
And richer dye each garden flower that 
blows ; 

i8 



iFrapients 



The vines will creep along the wall and 
droop 

With purple grapes, that vintage full in- 
close. 

The autumn sun will deeper dye the 

rose ; 
Ere killing frost, each flower brighter 

grows. 
The season's sweets most luscious are at 

last. 
And mind should at life's verge ripe fruit 

disclose. 



In night and darkness coming to death's 
door 

One called for light the entrance to ex- 
plore, 

Nor thought of what he had but had not 
done, 

19 



iFtapients 



And longed to do ere time should be no 
more. 



But take away the thought of death, and 

then 
Give man a respite from the ills of men ; 
But take away the incubus of fate, 
Blot from life's lexicon the words, Too late ! 

Bid ghosts and ghouls and goblins all be 

lain, 
And thought of threats and terrors, times 

of pain ; 
Crush concepts of the curse beyond life's 

bourn ; 
The Dies Iras, blot it from the brain ! 

Blot things that stupefy and make inane, — 
The thought that God in wicked wrath 
doth reign 

20 



iFrapientfii 



And self exalt, to make more servile man ; — 
Blot these, then joy of life one might at- 
tain. 



The creeds and dogmas, — put them all 

aside ; 
Learn from the forest in its stately pride ; 
Be one with Nature, learn of her to know, 
And let man's whims and speculations go. 



A melancholy plaint or song of sadness 
Possesses one, and drives away all glad- 
ness ; 
A dreary dirge, funereal note, or sighs 
Escape, or pent-up muse would lead to 
madness. 



Perchance a spirit on the bleak shore lin- 
gers, 

21 



jFrafftnentfii 



Before it ventures on the Stygian stream ; 

And one may feel the pressure of cold fin- 
gers, 

And weight at heart, as waking from a 
dream. 

The cause may be the being's ill condi- 
tion. 

The veins are clogged ; the mind without 
volition 

Contends with dim vagaries, while deli- 
rium ' 

Divides the thoughts 'tween heaven and 
perdition. 

Ah, well ! these strange imaginings forego, 
This world is full of all one needs to 

know; 
Then take the daily manna as it falls. 
With thanks, whate'er the future may be- 
stow, 

22 



ifrapiente 



Some men do think it well to praise and 

laud, 
Extol and glorify the name of God. . 
Why, is there not a plane above man's 

praise ? 
The wisest mortals mutely gaze abroad. 

What worth is man's exultant breath, fan- 
fare, 

Except to cool his broth, or fan the 
air? 

E'en wisest men would have their works 
speak well, 

But they themselves for fame have little 
care. 



If God knows all things, even counts one 's 

hairs. 
Why persecute Him with long woeful 

prayers, 

23 



jFrafinentfi; 



And tell Him what one 's done and left 

undone, 
And wail and weep the woes of every one ? 



Some, plaudits gain of crowds that gape 

and gaze, 
Th' ephemeral glory of the people's praise, 
Extolling to the skies ; then down are 

crushed, 
Condemned to Sheol in an adverse craze. 



To love the world, that God to man hath 
given, 

Will surely not deprive him of the hea- 
ven ; 

He 's cognizant of what should him con- 
cern 

More than of things that he through faith 
must learn. 

24 



iFraffments 



This life, so precious, shall it surely end ? 
Is there no law that will this life defend ? 
Have all the ages past no power gained 
O'er death to cause him change this cer- 
tain trend ? 

When man, all buoyant, full of vital force, 
By some mischance is called to end his 

course. 
Or foreordained from virile life to pass, 
He feels that he must conquer death per- 
force. 

Thus the dying Prince : 
" To die ! this life to end, and know not 

where 
Or whether to begin again ! Death dare 
Cope with the strength of this right arm ! 

destroy 
This sense of sight and sound ! Monster, 

beware ! 

25 



jFrafftnpntB 



"This brain so clear, abounding rich in 

thought, 
A hoarded store from all the ages brought ; 
Surrender all to thee ! I thee defy ! 
Begone, O death ! Come not till thou 

art sought ! " 

Death replies : 
" Vain, vain, and puerile is thy human 

power ! 
The grim king laughs, I give thee but an 

hour. 
Make now thy peace, proud Prince and 

profligate ! 
With all thy bravery thou to me shalt 

cower ! " 

What numerous ways to shorten this short 

life, — 
By famine, flood, fire, fighting, foes, and 

strife ! 

26 



iFraffmentfi! 



Disease destroys the youth, such ills the 

old 
As prick of pin, or bruise, or slash of 

knife. 

Stanch ships sink in the sea, ingulfing 

scores ; 
Within the earth the gas explodes, and 

pours 
Destruction, ruin, through the mining 

depths ; 
And danger waits within, without our 

doors. 



Should one go hence, though much be- 
loved, bemoaned. 

And scenes be changed, and grief of 
friends condoned, — 

Should death then lose his hold, and life 
restore, 

27 



jFraptentfi 



Would one by friends be welcomed as be- 
fore ? 



We group about in a delirious dream, 
Intently searching for the things that seem 
Eluding us, the nearer we approach. 
While things unsought upon our way en- 
croach. 



The kindly earth receives her children's 

dust ; 
Both good and bad are in her bosom 

thrust. 
And if there is a Judgment Day, why, then 
Shall all arise, or only the most just? 



O night, and darkness, and dissolving 
creeds, 

28 



jFraffments 



What takes your place to satisfy man's 

needs ? 
What " wind of doctrine " will he follow 

now, 
To pay or punish him for his misdeeds ? 

How easy to destroy ; but to rebuild, 
Restore the fragments, strengthen and re- 
gild, 
To give the structure symmetry and form, 
Not so ; nor free from faults, the task ful- 
filled. 



29 



^m ^ittmt^ 



m. 




€l)e f rojBft on tlfje ^mt^ 

OW the silver-pencil limner 
Filigrees the window panes, 
While the winter's wild-wind 
hymner 
Sings and whistles o'er the plains. 

Was there e'er so skilled a painter, 

Fashioning fountains, fields, and fanes. 

Fringing valleys, far and fainter, 
Forming hills and ferny lanes ? 

Fast are fairy flowers growing 

All along the waterway. 
And the water, downward flowing, 

Tosses high the silver spray. 



Far away o'er jeweled grasses 
Towers a castle in its pride, 
33 



CI)e JFroBt on tbt fjanes 



Where the stream the mountain passes 
On its rock-ribbed, rounded side. 

At its foot a boat is waiting 
For the lord, who lingers late ; 

He, still halting, hesitating. 

Something would communicate ; 

While King Sol, in state and glory. 
Strews his way with glistening gems, 

Flooding places frost and hoary, 
On the hillsides, in the glens ; 

Hanging all the trees with crystal. 
Covering all the pools with glass, 

Touching every thorn and thistle, 
Touching every blade of grass. 

See the trees with brilliants bending. 
And the shrubs spiked o'er with 
stars ! 

34 



C^e iFrofiit on t^e panes 



See the hillock-heaps unending 
And the silver-burnished bars ! 

And the boatmen still await him, 
While my lord makes last adieux. 

Pray, my lady, do berate him 

That he caused you lose these views. 

Haste, dear lover, with the story ; 

" Stand not on your going — go ! " 
Would you win while lasts this glory, 

Love the lady, tell her so ! 

Fast his majesty is drawing 

Lustrous gems within his train ; 

All the brooks and banks are thawing ; 
Beauty passeth from the pane. 

December, 1899. 



35 




OU know how sweet it is, the 
eglantine ? 
I never shall forget the fra- 
grance fine 
That through the open window came one 

morn, 
When dewdrops dotted every twig and 

thorn, 
When first the buds began in pink to shine 
All through the graceful tangle of the vine. 
I waked from restful sleep in country 

house. 
The cheerful call of robins early rouse 
From slumber, and the wooings in the pine 
And hummings, where the morning-glories 

twine. 
More witching, dreamful, make the waking 
hours 

36 



Cde (Efflantine 



Than quiet nights, with stars and dewy 

showers ; 
Entrancing to the senses when combine 
The dew, and sweetness of the eglantine. 
And when one fares far from the father- 
land 
And this same fragrance from the heath is 

fanned 
By gentle zephyr, somewhere 'long the 

line 
Of walk, or drive, one fain exclaims, How 

fine! 
How fine ! The odor that my senses greet 
Recalls attractions of that country seat. 
Its table, luscious viands and old wine. 
And witty guests and merry when they 

dine; 
And these fond memories add to the 

zest 
Of conversation with the foreign guest ; 
And sympathy, and similarity 
37 



C!)e (Efflantine 



Of taste, and love of like things are, you 

see, 
As magnet to the steel. So I divine 
The influence of the fragrant eglantine. 
The crimson rambler is a joy in June ; 
So brilliant, so prolific, gone too soon ; 
If thou wouldst make a lasting pleasure 

thine, 
Plant near the garden gate the eglantine, 
Or under windows, where it wooes to sleep, 
Or near porch pillars, where vines, scent- 
less, creep ; 
Against the lattice high train it to climb, 
Cut back the sprouts, and it becomes a 

vine, 
With this advantage, that the leaves retain 
Their subtile perfume when the flowers 

wane. 

The leaves so small and numerous incline 

To make a shade impervious, and at sign 

Of falling, thickly bristling thorns around 

38 



€\}t ^fflantine 



The leafless limbs for their defense are 

found. 
The symbol of the scented eglantine, 
" I wound to heal," is fittest to this vine 
That pricks with thorns and charms with 

luring scent. 
Be not intrusive, but with good intent 
Appreciate, admire, approach, enjoy. 
Attempt not too aggressively to toy 
With, grasp, and reckless wrench away its 

withes, 
Or for your pains, you'll pay with pain 

your tithes. 
The tiny humming bird is too discreet 
To light upon the branches with its feet ; 
It poises o'er the flower, fans with its 

wings. 
Inserts its bill, and forth sweet nectar 

brings. 
The rubiginosa, botanists define. 
Of genus Rosa is the Eglantine. 
39 



€fje futt^ in t^t €ree$f 



I 

HE queerest faces in the fir trees 
show, 
So fair and full and youth- 
ful, white in green, 



More varied than in other trees are seen ; 
And if by chance the wind should slightly 

blow, 
They bow and smile, and really speak, you 
know ; 
Intent, I listen, and their lips I 've seen 
To shape the words ; and reading, I 
have been 
Amused, and laughed outright, So-ho ! 
So-ho ! 

They seem to shout, so full of mirth they 
please ; 

40 



iFacee in tljt Crees 



You 've never seen the people in the 
trees ? 
Just lie quite still upon your couch and 

wait, — 
No matter be it morning, noon, or late, 
At even's redding glow, — look through 

the fir, 
The bacchanalian boys the branches stir. 

II 
More shaggy and big-headed dwarfs do 
shake 
Goat-bearded chins, and mow from out 

the pine, 
And preacher - like, to punctuate the 
line 
And dissertation, do telling gestures make. 
And try you, and condemn you to the 
stake, 
For your small sins, with their self- 
righteous whine, — 
41 



CI)e jFaces in t|)e Crees 



Though your bent twigs no worse than 
theirs incline, — 
And over you corrosive ashes rake. 

Those wicked, dwarfish elfins, there are 
they! 
With bulging cheeks, and faces red with 

wine. 
Had I the powers of the sacred Nine 
I still should fail to funny things portray, 
That I have watched them doing day by 
day 
When pours Apollo's torchlight through 
the pine. 

Ill 
I search the foliage of a maple tree, 

To find a creature clothed in tissue 

white, 
With flowing robes, and crowned in ra- 
diant light, 

42 



d)e iFaccs in ti)e QLxtts 



At noonday 'mong fine leaves she 's sure 

to be, 
With her grand pose as if awaiting me. 
Not Milo's Venus gives me more de- 
light, 
Than when the regal features greet my 
sight 
Of my own Juno, whom she deigns to be. 

She white-armed is, and not so statuesque 
As marble Milo, on my writing-desk ; — 

Her vivid beauty I have much pre- 
ferred. 

It graceful varies by the breezes stirred. 
Not faultless hues or placid face do please 
As life and love of people in the trees. 

IV 

Conservatory palms give hiding-places 
To giant grotesque heads, with grue- 
some eyes 

43 



C!)e faces in tl)e Crees 



That glare at one, as one unthinking 
lies, 
And looks by chance at their peculiar 

faces. 
The palm fiends are unlike the other 
races 
That dwell among the leaves, and us 

surprise 
With queer expressions of old men and 
wise, 
Whose sun-dried wrinkles leave the deep- 
est traces ; 

For great moon contours they eclipse the 
graces, 
They 've bushy brows, and gaping mouth 

that cries, 
Give water ! I am athirst ! The hot 
sun dries 
And burns to shreds the vine protective 
laces ; 

44 



Cl&e ifaccfi in tl)e Crees 



Pray give of water ere the old man dies ! 
He drinks, revives, and wrinkles lose their 
traces. 

V 

Could I but see the tropic trees again ! 
The beautiful Acacia is so fine, 
In it to look for only forms divine 
As mid Mimosa's shrinking leaves ; the 

Plane 
So spreading, sturdy, strong, that people 
fain 
Would search the one for sweets, and in 

the line 
Of Planes would see the giants, who 
combine 
Great size with strength, and they in these 
would reign. 

Sad, sombre figures through the Cypress 
train ; 

45 



)t jFaceg in tl)e Crecfii 



The dark, dense garb of Ilex trees 

would hide 
The robes diaphanous e'en of a bride ; 
Through their prim rows to peer would be 

in vain. 
Again I see these trees 't will be my 

pride 
To tell you truly who in them abide. 

VI 

This very morn Apollo's light revealed 
A glimpse of Daphne in a Laurel 

green ; 
Her leafy robe enfolded with its sheen 
Her beauteous form, which it but half-con- 
cealed, 
And at the Laurel's foot her lover kneeled ; 
Her flowing hair in her elusive flight 
Was still afloat and glinting in the 
light : 
To her compassion he in vain appealed. 
46 



Cf)e iFaces in t^t Crees 



Ah, Daphnes many, whose sweet lips are 
sealed, 
Who would not fettered be as some 

have been ; 
Responsive to a world of loves they 've 
seen 
A kind Peneus, to shelter and to shield, 
Grant every wish with love paternal 
keen : 
Such love denied, their hearts would be 
congealed. 



47 



€apn 




E rocky crags and cliffs, that 
proudly leap 
And grandly from the water's 
edge, so high 
And far beyond my power to mount, so 
steep, 
I fain would scale your peaks that near 
the sky, 
And far above yon fleecy cloud would greet 
A larger world than here lies at my feet. 
But no ; this mountain side shall satisfy, 
So fragrant with wild thyme and rose- 
mary, 



Where pretty vines and grasses cling and 
creep 
Above the rude, abrupt declivity, 
48 



Capri 

And make a couch so sweet and soft 
and dry, 
That I a long and restful watch will keep, 
To see the sun dip into Naples Bay and 
die ; 
Then all the heights will hide their heads 
and weep. 

II 
A small scull skims the water still and 
deep. 
And leaves a trail behind of liquid light ; 
A lover bends his head, as he would keep 
His eyes' fond secret from his sweet- 
heart's sight. 
And plies the oar with slow, uncertain 

sweep. 
As precious thoughts for utterance were 

too deep. 
The white trail lengthens through the dis- 
tance dim ; 

49 



Caprt 

In fleecy clouds, with spreading wings 
afloat, 

Are guarding angels keeping love and him 
And all their world within that little 

boat. 
As joys are sweeter interspersed with tears, 
And life will better weigh 'tween hopes 

and fears, 
I give you joy, and tears, and blessings, 

dears, 
Before your boat in shadow disappears. 

Ill 

With song and laughter while the hours 
away. 
Ye dark-eyed children of this sunny 
clime ; 
To human needs but little heed ye pay, 
Where life is full of sounds and scenes 
sublime, 

5° 



Capri 

And ye exist soul full of what these teach, 
Of what the waves say when they wash 

the beach, 
Of what the caverns echo, keeping time, 
Of what the pictures are as far as eye can 

reach. 

Ye see the morn o'er distant waters break 

Effulgent, on the evanescing mist. 
Whose crystals all the jewel-colors take, 
And change their places, roll, and 
writhe, and twist 
Into fantastic shapes, each scene more 

grand. 
As they are shifted by the breezes bland ; 

IV 

As they did take the forms of rocky peaks, 

Reflect the color of the coral strand. 
Reveal the cavern depths, that darkness 
seeks, 

51 



Capti 

The winding pathways through the sil- 
ver sand ; 
Between the brilliant pyrotechnic streaks 
Show towers and turrets, where the 
ruins stand, 
The Bay of Napoli, cerulean creeks. 
Mirage illusive of the sea and land. 

By winged Hours Apollo's brow is fanned, 
As upward from the sea-wall flight they 
take ; 
High holds the god his gleaming cup in 
hand. 
And gathers in the mist, his thirst to slake, 
And all the crystal globes fall in the swim 
To fill his cup, to fill it to the brim. 

V 

The islanders bring coral from the sea. 
And grapes and olives from their vine- 
yards bring ; 

52 



Capri 

Distil delicious wine, the white Capri, 
Red wine, and fish, and shells, and oil: 
each thing 
Is current change, a sure commodity, 
With which to eke their bread. They 
dance and sing, 
And laugh, nor take they note of poverty ; 
Their joyous voices have a silver ring. 

When bleak the winds in other climes and 
cold, 
Here unobstructed shines the sun and 
warm. 
Reflected from the high rocks rude and 
bold 
That shelter when the sea is lashed in 
storm : 
In storm one hears the sad and plaintive 

lays 
That now and then a touching voice be- 
trays. 

53 



Capri 

VI 

The donkey- drivers on the rock-hewn 
road 
Up, up wind zigzag, Ana- Capri toward. 
But homeward bound the donkeys need 
no goad. 
As when they brought the travelers from 
the sea 
The patient, long-eared creatures slowly 
strode. 
They have my heart's sincerest sym- 
pathy, 
For, often smaller than their human load, 
They trudge on with their burthen 
wearily. 

Ascend Solaro, past the villa old, 

Or ancient palace by Tiberius built ; 
One of a dozen, thus, this tyrant bold 
The gods did honor, who condoned his 
guilt ; 

54 



Capri 

See Paestum, Ponza isles, and distant 

chain 
Of mountains bounding the Campanian 

plain. 

VII 

In coming from the hotel Quisisana, 
Along the pathway past the English 
church, 
A child calls softly, Signora ! Signora ! 
The sun-bronzed picture from her rocky 
perch 
Presents some fragrant wall-flowers, brown 
and gold, — 
What voice mellifluous, raven curls, and 
eyes! 
Child of the sun, that poverty makes 
bold! 
Content with centimes, she parts with 
the prize. 



55 



Capri 

The pleased possessors the sweet odors 

breathe. 
Pursuing still the rude path toward huge 

rocks 
That rise at sea, round which the waters 

seethe ; 
On which the white sea-gull and weary 

flocks 
Of migrant birds may find foothold and 

perch, 
The while with eager eyes for food to 

search. 

THE SUN AT CAPRI 
VIII 

The sun that penetrates the deep, dark 
places 
That else were desolate, the rocky rifts, 
That drapes their shelves and shrouds 
their rugged faces 
S6 



Capri 

With blooming vines and broom and 
furze ; that lifts 
The tree, Arbutus, from the thing that 
creeps 
In colder climes and trails 'neath woody 
cover. 
And pushing through brown leaves its 
pink flower peeps, — 
Here, tall, it tops the purple heather over, 

The sun illuminates the grottos, white 
And green and azure, with a glorious light, 
And makes within the water all agleam, 
Lights star and jelly-fishes with his beam, 
And coral paints, and ruined Villa Jovis, — 
The sun this isle's best benefactor is. 

IX 

Enchanting, charming isle, O dear Capri ! 
The gods the ancients honored smile on 
thee : 

57 



Capri 

Heart-chords and vocal vibrate to thy 

praise, 
Since when the goats did on thy moun- 
tains graze, 
Since when each villa of Tiberius strove 
To grandly equal that he built to Jove. 



58 




^n ti^c ^itak Countrp 

I 

E came upon a ruin, gray and 
bare, 
Whose crumbling roof, and 
wall's rough logs, and rude. 
Did forward lean, and doors, from des- 
uetude. 
On rusty hinges hung immobile, where 
The wall's weight bore. No vine with 
kindly care 
A cover stretched, to screen the struc- 
ture nude. 
And spread its leaves upon the rotted 
wood, 
Where wreck and desolation baldly stare. 

Deserted hut, where some poor soul h- ' 
birth, 

59 



STn t!)e ^lealt Countrp 



Perchance had lived, and loved, and 

happy been. 
Till proud ambition entered on the 
scene. 
Or knowledge of the outer things of earth 
Made inroads on the mind inept and 
dearth. 
And made the cabin walls seem low and 
mean. 

II 

The wind swept through with solitary 
moan 
A scraggy pine, storm-riven, red with 

rust; 
Here lopped, there limbs half dead it 
upward thrust. 
Stray birds had scattered seeds, from 

which had grown 
Gaunt saplings, near the old well's crude 
curb-stone. 

60 



3rn tfie ^leafe (JDottnttj) 



The sweep that once the bucket dipped, 

and just 
Above the curb upturned, succumb it 

must 
When boisterous boreal blasts again are 

blown. 

Where are they all, who here have dwelt 
apart 
So isolated from the haunts of man ? 
What led them from the place where life 
began, 
Where nature taught, the forest, and the 

stars ? 
Shall they be wiser when they learn of art 
What imitation feebly makes and mars ? 



6i 



M 


"M 


H. 


M 



I 

LOVE the beechwood in my 
drawing-room ; 
No matter how the winter 
clouds may lower, 
Or howe'er sudden comes the summer 
shower, 
Or sombre all without, or gray the gloom, 
Here is a forest in eternal bloom ; 

I look into its depths, through leafy 

bower. 
And seem to scent the sweets of fern 
and flower, 
Of lilies on the slowly moving flume. 

Immortal art, that doth transfix a scene 
In nature mutable, but here hath been 
Some years the same, for ages yet will be. 
62 



)t -JSeecIjtDoolr 



While care and canvas last "t will pleasure 

give; 
For future generations it will live, 

And bear the same thought then as now 

to me. 

II 

The beeches lovers love, who seek at 
times 
To make their vows beneath their shel- 
tering arms, 
While on the bole they carve their name 
and rhymes, 
And wooing feel secure from all alarms ; 
Forever after sacred is the spot. 
And no true lover e'er such place forgot. 



63 



Hobe 




RUE love is oft maligned ; 

No sinister thief is he, 
Although a bleeding heart 
Proclaims him so to be. 



The love that is unselfish, 
Is of enduring kind, 

Is better far than passion 
That is to reason blind. 



64 




ETWEEN the trees, behind long 
lines of cloud, 
Up slowly rose the moon, not 
pale and white, 
But glowing clear above the bars, and 
proud. 
And round, reflecting still day's ruddy 
light. 

And on the balcony, in its full face, 
We musing sat, to watch the many 
changes 
That Nature's sceptre, swaying, in short 
space 
Of time controls, of vast and sweeping 
ranges. 



^5 



(tljitt^^ianli* 



A fleecy cloud flies lightly o'er her face ; 
Then grandly roll up crags and moun- 
tain peaks, 
And white wings wave, and figures fall 
apace 
And melt away to thin, ethereal streaks. 

An ocean opens 'neath fair Cynthia's feet, 
Broad sea of liquid lines and lurid light, 

And ships appear and cross, a great white 
fleet, 
Led onward by the spirits of the night. 

Now comes in state a giant form repos- 
ing 

On mountain ridge ; his pillow is a stone, 
And on his head a laurel crown, disclosing 

The poet on his monumental throne. 

Now higher still and smaller shrinks the 
moon, 

66 



ClDttH^lanU 



And. clear and whiter grows the light, 

and pale ; 
The stars show one by one, to stud and 

soon 
The pageant cover with a coat of mail. 



67 



ON HER EIGHTIETH BIRTHDAY, MAY 24, 1899 




STATELY ship sailed out upon 

the sea ; 
Small ships and sloops slipped 
out quite buoyantly ; 
But when the storm so sudden blew and 

beat, 
The lesser ships and crafts and clippers 

fleet, 
With straining sails, went up and down 

and under, 
Tossed in the sea-trough, wrecked and 

wrenched asunder. 
The great ship ploughed the rough waves 
gallantly, 



^er Kopal anti ^m^tvml iHaiestp 

And bore its treasured freight trium- 
phantly, 
Secure in force conserved, and mastery — 
This ship is likened to her Majesty. 

Upon a plain small shrubs and tall trees 

grew ; 
On higher plain rose one tree 'bove the 

few; 
So sober, staunch, and firm this lonely tree, 
The sturdy saplings strove like staunch to 

be. 
Ambitious trees far-reaching arms did 

spread 
To dominate the saplings overhead. 
'Mid verdure fresh, with sober, quiet mien. 
The gods designed the one for forest 

queen. 
And placed it high that all the world might 

see, — 
This tree is likened to her Majesty. 



^tv Eopal anU Sfmpertal Jlajestp 

Along a mountain range, one lofty peak 
Deceives not those, who from the distance 

seek 
To catch a glimpse through bursting 

clouds, and bow 
Before its scarred and weather-beaten 

brow. 
It, washed and furrowed with the tem- 
pest's hail, 
Serenely stands and firm, though storms 

assail, 
Till all the lines and furrows form a 

crown, 
To catch the light, and cap the mountain 

brown. 
To Her, of like steadfastness, gloria ! 
Ave ! Imperial Victoria ! 



70 




HE British nation mourns ; all 

nations mourn 
The God-anointed in the purple 
borne, 
With heart-felt sorrow, to the halls of 

death ; 
All know no better sovereign e'er drew 

breath. 
Above all men, above all women placed, 
Her Majesty this high position graced ; 
Her potent will in wisdom was proclaimed. 
And after death the world her virtues 
named. 
January 22, 1901. 



71 




Eeto, 0^otl)er of t^t sr^om 

ETO, mother of the morn, 
Wakes the world and makes it 
warm, 

Drives the dreary and forlorn 
Frosted figures far from sight, 
Garbs them with her garments green, 
If they are not hidden quite. 
Nothing must be faded, old, 
When Apollo's car is seen 
Rolling up on rims of gold 
Through the clouds incarnadine. 
Leto, mother of the morn ! 
Winter flees from thee in scorn. 
Fairness, freshness, like a thorn 
Winter's withered flesh doth pierce. 
So with furtive glance and fierce. 
Hiding from the light, he seeks 
72 



Irto, 0.ai\ftv of tl)e ilarn 



Hollows where the mountain keeps 
Longer all the ice-cold heaps, 
Where the heights are capped with snow, 
Where the Borean horn doth blow. 



73 



4B>ratitutie anb i^ojie 




RATEFUL are we for the sun- 
light 
After days of rain and dark- 
ness, 
Gladly look we toward its rising, 
Breaking through the heavy foliage, 
Spreading o'er the hills and valleys, 
Painting them in varied green ; 
Tinting all the clouds above them, 
Warming all the space between. 
Stretching well contracted muscles. 
Stiffened joints, rheumatic limbs, 
Feeling now that supple motion 
Warmth and sunlight always bring; 
Feeling less the brain's oppression, 
Weighted less with trivial thoughts. 
Up from out the dearth and dampness, 
Light, elate, the spirits spring. 
74 



(^ratitttUe anU l^ope 



Bless the rain, the dark, the dampness ! 
Bless the ills they seem to bring ! 
For the best of blessings follow 
When the darkness lifts its wing. 
When, the mercury descending, 
Follows suit the ruby blood, 
Hold Hope closely to thy bosom ; 
Joy will soon thy being flood. 



75 






HE dear old house will echo to 

the fall 
Of sledge and hammer on its 
wailing wall, 
For here a window, there a door will be, 
Where hung for years the faded family 
tree. 

The straight, steep stair, where trooped 

the children's feet, 
Will change to easy steps for those less 

fleet; 
And where the joyous sound of youth was 

heard, 
By sober voices echoes will be stirred. 



76 



feftmarp 



^raiLD February ends with clouds 
\^Hi H o'ercast, 

Chill dampness fills the air, 
Light showers fall at intervals, and fast 

Gray fog arises where 
The city's furnace flues their volumes pour, 

A seething, blackened mass, 
To mix with mist, and dredge with dark- 
ness o'er. 
Through which grim shadows pass. 



77 



^pril f lohjerjGf 




HERE are the daffodils that 
bloomed the while 
Enticing April wore her sunny- 
smile ? 
And where the glow of dainty tulips, too, 
That looked so brightly toward the vaulted 

blue? 
On southern banks the beauties blinked 

their eyes, 
And in sequestered spots the violets rise ; 
Some, still, no doubt, remain to welcome 

May, 
That brings to bloom the apple-blossoms 

gay. 



78 



HE mist writhes upward from 
the summit's crown, 
The mountain sides are gray; 
A great cloud separates and shifts ; 
The sun shines through the opening 

rifts ; 
The little blossom's head uplifts, 
And smiling greets the day. 

The darkness from the lowland creeps 
away 
And hides in secret dens. 
Where day does never boon bestow ; 
But light on highest peak does throw, 
And sets the little hills aglow, 
And greens the vales and glens. 



79 



Eeijeille 



A single sentry bird first sounds reveille, 
A first sweet song of praise 
That rouses all its mates from sleep ; 
Their drooping lids ope, blink, and peep, 
Till ruby rays they see upleap, 
- Then one grand chorus raise. 

Alert the squirrel from its nest springs 
forth, 
The rabbit, listening, leaps ; 
The bleat of lambs, the crowing cocks, 
The cattle herds, the waking flocks, 
The wild things in the woody copse, 
And everything that creeps ; 

All, all the moving throng hail with delight 
The coming of the sun. 
As if the earth were newly made 
Each morning with the sun-god's aid, 
And Love awaked, whom slumber stayed. 
To welcome day begun. 
80 




low hypnotizing is the May-time 
here, 
So full of color and of fra- 
grant flowers ; 
Ah, Flora has exerted all her powers, 
And she, fair goddess, reigns supreme 

this year. 
The robin and the lark come with good 
cheer. 
And build and sing between the fre- 
quent showers, 
Their nests secure beneath lush, leafy 
bowers. 
O spring, and showers, and sun, and flow- 
ers, so dear ! 

Life is too short to have full joy of 
all: 

8i 



We count the years ; but once in each 
the May, 

Fair-faced, with fairy fingers, /ares this 
way, 
To spread the leaves and swathe the som- 
bre wall, 

To sprout the sedge and emerald edge 
the streams. 

And soothe with subtle touch to sleep 
and dreams. 



82 




iofeo 

HAT of those Canes, man's most 
faithful friends ? 
Forsooth, one with his life man's 
life defends. 
Is there a heaven for man, and not for 

him, 
When heaven for man on happiness de- 
pends ? 
What joy to see our Yoko's beauteous 

eyes 
And welcome wag, should we find Para- 

adise ! 
Some other Canes we should hope to see, 
Nor should be happy were it otherwise. 



83 



4B>ofti to <B(xlti 



HE moneyed men, the multi- 
millionaires, 
Who know that Dividends are 
always theirs. 
Buy up controlling interests in the Stocks ; 
But he who builds, no matter how he fares. 

The philanthropic man, for public weal, 
Gives railroads right of way ; and in the 

deal. 
With added cash, is promised Shares at 

par, — 
Of profits he 's assured, nor fear need feel. 

Then Bonds are issued, — A's and B's and 

C's, 
And First Preferred, and Second Stocks, 

— and these 

84 



(Sola to (Sola 



Are followed by Debentures, and their 

Script, 
So watered that the Common value flees. 

The magnates own the Bonds, their inter- 
est sure ; 

They own the First Preferred, and profit 
will secure ; 

Large salaries are paid, and workman's 
wage; 

Equipments and repairs they must insure. 

The Common Stock is weak, its value 

wanes ; 
For right of way and hard earned cash no 

gains, 
But gold to gold with great attraction 

goes ; 
'T is not for men of brawn, but men of 

brains. 



85 



2Di^aj>pointment 




TAKE from out my life the 
dream, 
The incubus whose leaden 
weight 
Hath pressed upon my brain, till late 
I willed it quenched in Lethe's stream. 



So real the semblance seemed, so true, 
So strong my faith, so pure my thought, 
That this so sudden change hath taught 

Me hopes and prayers and faith to rue. 



86 



€fte Sl^ontf) to Wti^ 

OW lovely is the month of June, 

With sweetest roses crowned, 

With all her music chords atune, 

Her heart quite full of rhyme and rune ; 

She breathes soft airs 'cross field and 

dune, 

And scatters fragrance round. 

Her emerald robes, with graceful trail. 

Touch lightly as they pass, 
And leave along the hill and dale. 
And wood and mountain side and vale. 
And in the dank and darkened swale, 
The tint of greening grass. 

The sun's warm rays come slanting down 

Through fluffy, tender leaves ; 
The birds chirp to their fledglings brown ; 
87 



iKontI) t0 Wtti 



One feeds them, plucks their feathery 

down, 
One, for more young her joy to crown, 
Her nest's new lining weaves. 

And others than the birds build nests. 
Hung with soft linings round. 

With tapestries and downy rests. 

And /aufeuil that the form invests, 

And beauty's duplicating tests 
On every side are found. 

As soft as sward beneath the feet 

The tufted velvets lie ; 
From niches deep come odors sweet. 
Where sun and flowers and moisture meet, 
And songsters choir, with joy complete, 

From trembling branches high. 

The lover's thought is for his bride, 
Who waiting for the hour 



iHontI) to WtH 



When the bridegroom comes, elate with 

pride, 
And stately standing by her side, 
The twain are one, let what betide. 
As one they to their bower. 

This is the month of all the year, 

The lovers' fragrant June, 
When many wed without the fear 
That stars, unlucky, will appear 
That May brings, and November drear, 

So lovers wed in June. 



I 



89 



^ 3^une €ijemng in Eontion 




HE sombre buildings cannot 
hide the sky ; 
For since the rain has ceased 
up leaps the light 
That glows and gleams upon the clouds 
that lie 
Above the blackened roofs, that shut 
from sight 
The reddened rim of the departing 

day, 
While fog subdues and softens the last 
ray: 
Reflecting tints, from cumulative mist, 
That Turner caught in pictures that en- 
list 
Art-lover's warmest sympathy and praise. 
M. Turner's greatest forte is mist and 
fog, 

90 



a Stttie (Evening; in lontion 



The central point of import gleaming 
through ; 
The minor points may be a mire or bog, 
It matters not, he represents so true, 

Original, and strong, the thing he will. 
That one will look, and linger looking 
still. 



2Fune 




UST as our hearts elate, and all 
attune 
With perfume, color, sounds and 
songs of June, 
And, dreaming, we but think the month 

begun. 
Behold, the dear, delicious days are done ; 
And all the hardy rose-trees have thrown 

down 
The fragile glory of their summer crown, 
And at their feet a tinted carpet lies, 
Fit for the fairies, ere the sweet month 
dies. 



92 



€]()e ^itti^ 



HE goldfinch's nest on the apple- 
tree bough 
Is full of finches now ; 
Heard you the blackbird singing in the 
pine, — 
The one with voice divine, 
The others' notes are but a croaking caw 

Governed by other law. 
They drive the doves and thrushes from 
their tree, 
And will not let them be. 
The robins gave them fight some y^ars 
ago; 
And ever since they know 
Enough to leave their nests and young to 
grow 
In pine-tree or hedge row. 



93 



mm 




GAIN the eve of night, — all 
over blue, 
And spiked with golden gems 
above, and dew 
Like rain beneath ; that shines and glows, 
A world of beauty in repose ; 
That quiet brings, and sleep and dreams, 
With slow, deep breathing, undisturbed by 

beams 
Of the pale moon, that 'neath a cloud re- 
cedes, — 
Insures forgetfulness of ills one needs 
Encounter, trifles that torment and tease, 
The thing that rasps, that leaves the dregs, 

the lees. 
Devoid of sweets, and to the fore with 
rude 

94 



Unkindly stings, of base ingratitude, 
With false aspersion, or with bitter hate ; 
Night soothes, and smooths, though sleep 
oft tarries late. 



95 




|HE gnarled Olive, Olea styled, 
Shrub from the Orient flora wild, 
With flowers small and creamy 
white ; 
Its perfume is my heart's delight. 
I want it always in my bower, 
This favorite, modest little flower, 
That hides in leaves of glossy green, 
And there it ever is unseen, 
Till by keen sense its odor caught, 
It is by lover eager sought. 
It afterward will help to grace 
Where rose and violet have place. 



96 




€^t ^a^^ing of all €l)ing^ 

HE passing of all things, 

Of childhood's faith and fears, 

That disillusion brings 
With the passing years, 
Past Pan with piping reeds, 

Dian with silver bow ; 
How can one say the creeds. 

And let these fancies go ? 
Ne'er will Poseidon roll 

Old ocean into foam, 
Nor Zeus the gods control 

That from Olympus roam ; 
Fancy, the poet's food, 

For prosy fact makes way ; 
Euterpe's Lyric brood, 

Alas ! where wander they ? 
And where is Aphrodite, 

Hephaestus' gift from Zeus, 
97 



C|)e ipafitsitns of all dimsfii 

And he, the fire-god mighty, 

From old romance cut loose ? 
No Dryad now upsprings 

From forest felled and waste, 
And Kronos ends all things 

With ruthless, undue haste ; 
Important aeons end 

With tolling of the bell — 
Time will no moment lend ; 

Old century, farewell. 



€fje SD0$ferteti a^anjefion 




HE stately mansion stands aloof, 
In dreariness and gloom ; 
'Gainst winter blasts its walls 
are proof, 
And sombre as the tomb. 

The lilac hedge has dropped its leaves, 

The trees are bald and bare ; 
The birds, that built beneath the eaves, 

Have flown some other where. 

The lawn is littered with debris, 
The paths no footprints show ; 

The spiders spin from tree to tree, 
And threads of silver strew. 

The tropic palms the frost will singe, 
No care the flowers restore ; 
99 



W^t T>z&mtli iKansuJii 



On carriage drive no wheels impinge 
Or halt before the door. 

Alone, and silently, we pass 

Anear the ancient hall. 
And fain would enter, but alas ! 

Sad memories recall, — 

The gentle friend, who far did fare, 

A few short years ago, 
Who ne'er will cross the wide parterre, 

In passing to and fro ; 

Her pleasing presence, vivid yet, 
Though hushed her voice, we know ; 

We wonder if we shall forget, 
And apathetic grow. 




i DIEU, dear love ! I go to-day 
From sweetest joys prepared 
for me, 
Not of my will, nor far away. 

Nor to remain for long from thee j 
Should unforeseen event detain 

Me longer than I now suspect, 
Be sure I shall myself complain, 

My breast with rue, not rose bedecked. 

Be sure, I shall be restive till, 

From quest accomplished, I return 
Again to heaven, and thy sweet will ; 

Adieu ! till then my heart will burn ! 
Once more, dear love, thy lips I press, 

We cannot separated be ; 
I '11 clip this silken, shining tress : 

'T will lead me ever back to thee. 



fraiftp 



LONG the weed -grown dusty 
road 
O'er bent with years an old man 
strode ; 
A life of care a web did trace 
Of wrinkles 'cross his aged face. 




An infant tottered by his side ; 
His feeble hand its steps did guide. 
Childhood and age, how like are they, 
At morn of life, at evening gray ! 



€{je S^ulp ^un 



ULY'S sun makes sweet and 
wholesome that which else 
were foul and waste ; 
Warms the blood and gives it color, drives 

it through the veins in haste ; 
Penetrates the pores of fruit, and makes it 

pleasant to the taste ; 
Pours through orchard, field, and garden, 

filling cells with juices fine ; 
Fruits that will grow rich, and ripe, and 

heavy hang on tree and vine, 
Till the autumn stores are garnered, and 

is pressed the luscious wine. 
July sun comes through the windows, with 

a health-infusing air. 
Making buoyant all the being, which the 

broad light makes more fair ; 
Makes the dullard less the dotard, makes 

the sullen debonair. 
103 




€{je J>ummer Clotm^ 

HE twilight lingers late to-night, 
Bright clouds the sky cerulean 
light, 

A cool breeze from the heat relieves, 
And from its languor one reprieves. 

The quiet in my garden seems 
To fit the place for ideal dreams, 
If pen or pencil were but here ; 
To fix the scenes that first appear. 

The birds, their heads between their wings, 
The robin, e'en, that latest sings. 
Now hushed are they, and housed beneath 
The leaves of trees, and hedge, and heath. 

So their sweet songs will not inspire 
My muse to tune her dormant lyre, 
104 



S)ummer ClottUs 



To wake the echoes with such thrills, 
Soft as the dew that heaven distills. 

O dews of heaven and songs divine 1 
And life's elixir of new wine ! 
Expand my heart with love thereof 
To equal the expanse above. 

In the great dome appear in cloud 
A seraph, palms, and eagle proud ; 
A king, in royal robes and crown, 
Seems 'fore the seraph to bow down. 

Departing day sends back rose-tints, 
And 'gainst the blue it plainly prints 
The changing scene ; Now, quickly, 

seek! 
What holds the eagle in the beak ? 

The seraph's arm, as he would lead 
Her higher, where the lightnings breed, 



®()e Summer (JDloutifi 



And from her hand one takes a pen, 
Moves slowly toward the king, and then 

The eagle's wings are far outspread. 
The seraph's wings wave overhead. 
Her garments float across the blue, 
The filmy robes, of rosy hue, 

'Mid waving palms and cherub's wings, 
The great plumed pen one proudly brings ; 
Behold ! the pale king fades from sight, 
The pen alone reflects the light. 

We read the portents in the sky, — 
In changing clouds that soon pass by, — 
When kings and potentates have past 
The power of the pen shall last. 



1 06 




ILENT the night, 

Not a breeze 
Stirs the atmosphere 

Or the trees. 

Sound asleep 
On the hillside 
The flocks lie near, 

Breathing deep. 
The stars decline 

Toward the west, 

I to my rest. 



107 



IHE earth is shadowed o'er with 
shifting clouds, 
The sweet, soft, soothing air 
makes sleepy days ; 
The autumn's splendors are subdued in 

shrouds 
Of all-pervading, subjugating haze. 




1 08 



€eH me, tell me, if pou fenoiB 



I pOlELL me, tell me, if you know 
Uj^m Where the rarest blossoms grow ! 
ifl^iy For my love I '11 gather all 
Ere their dainty petals fall. 
I will wall her round with flowers, 
And imprison her for hours ; 
If she bears the bondage well, 
Shall I free her, who can tell ? 

II 
Tell me how to bind her so 
Chains nor chafe nor let her go ; 
How to rosy bands entwine 
To keep her ever, ever mine : 
So enwreathed, enwalled with me, 
I her willing slave will be : 
If she bears the bondage well, 
Shall I free her, who can tell ? 
109 



^ttjap to tfje ^ea 




COPIOUS rain has caused the 

flowers to bloom, 
And washed the roofs and dusty 
streets all clean, 
And with the clouds have passed the days 

of gloom ; 
The trees cast shadows on the velvet 

green. 
The sun outlines them with its brilliant 

sheen, 
And soon will end the lovely month of 

June, 
Much prettier now than it before has 

been. 
Too soon has come the summer heat, too 

soon, 
When country air and salt sea breezes 
are a boon. 

no 



^taiap to ti)e ^ea 



Our friends are going now good-by to 

you 
Who seek the island on the ocean line, 
Where sky and waves of opalescent hue 
Give wider range of vision than is mine, 
Though I, within my walls, have visions 

fine ; 
Though walls and trees about me hide 

the stars, 
The sweep of constellations will be thine, 
And nothing the ecliptic march debars. 
And nothing the expanse of water hides 



Such vast expanse of land and sea and 

sky 
Prepares the mind to estimate and rate 
Its native inland narrowness, apply 
The probe to pettiness, and stimulate' 
To acts of wider range, performance 

great. 



9ltoap to tl)e ^ea 



How grand the storm when billows slash 
the dune, 

And breakers crash against the rocks, 
abate, 

Roll back, and gather force to throw their 
spume 

High over crags, while voicing a mysteri- 
ous rune. 



f« 




O — lo — o — o — lo, 
Down where the Yantic waters 
flow, 

Ah moo — ah moo — again, ah moo ! 
What is it you desire to do ? 
To call us where in clover deep 
The bright-eyed blossoms 'gin to peep ; 
Where golden buttercups still bloom, 
That soon the sun to fade will doom ? 
Sweet Yantic waters fresh and free, 
The sylvan shade of shrub and tree, 
The daisies on the banks you see 
Are dear to you, are dear to me. 
Ah moo — ah moo ! I soon will come — 
lo — lo — to bring you home. 
No Argus eyes will rest on you, 
Nor will the gadfly pester you ; 
"3 



^0 

You will repay us for our care 
With foaming milk and butter rare. 
I come, I come, lo — lo — 
Down where the Yantic waters flow. 



114 



I 




Autumn 2Dapi3? 

WEET autumn days, with bril- 
liant sun, 
Whose slanting rays have just 
begun 
To purple haze the atmosphere, 
And woods and ways to make less clear ; 
To cloud the maze of falling leaves, 
And paint the grays of brushwood 

sheaves. 
To soften all the landscape's glow. 
And hide the pall of death below ! 
The master's hand holds now the brush, 
And all the land, with colors blush, 
And grave, and gay, doth alternate, 
As rich array of potentate. 
Oh for the hand that dares to paint 
Plain dunes of sand, or sky so faint ; 
To pigments spread, with lavish skill, 



atttumn ^aps 



On forest head, at foot of hill, 
On highest peak, and lowest plain. 
Till pictures speak that haunt the brain, 
As oft recurring, sad refrain 
Succeeds some stirring, tender strain ! 
If singer's song and painter's skill 
Our joys prolong, they have their will. 



i6 




Winttt ^a^^mQ 

INTER, with its white snows 
and crystal sheen, 
With its bright fires and occu- 
pations rare. 
With its high sounding notes or mournful 

threne. 
Is passing, now, to Spring's emollient air, 
To Spring more warm, regenerate, fair. 

Should marvels, yearly wrought in nature's 

hold, 
That we, insensate, pass or slightly feel. 
Cease, and no springing mysteries unfold, 
No unseen force push on the motive 
wheel. 
What woe would shadow o'er our weal ! 



117 



€l&e €l)reati of %ih 




FEEBLE wail 
Begins the tale 

Of toil or play- 
On life's highway. 
A tinted sky, 
Two clouds roll by, 
Unite in one, 
Love at its dawn. 
Two cooing doves, 
And wedded loves ; 

With children, cares 
Come unawares. 
A fading light 
And brooding night, 
A stifled sigh, 
A sightless eye, 
A strangled breath — 
And this is death. 



j^emomtiilia 



!3r^aj)onIiunt 




H, Mahonburn, dear Mahon- 
burn ! 
Now April 's here our hearts do 
yearn 
To see her trail across the mead 
And wake to life the sleeping seed ; 
To see her green the sombre earth, 
And bid the buds to their new birth ; 
To press the sod with springing feet, 
And breathe the air, so sweet, so sweet ; 
To wake the morn with song and shout, 
The livelong day to voice about 
The joy of life, the fountain springs, 
Of April's fresh awakenings. 
O glad heart, sing ! Sing brook, sing birds ! 
Sing, glad world, sing, songs without words! 
Sing matin trills, soul full of praise, 
And vesper thrills for April days ! 



€l&e 0^eatiotD ^rooft 




ITH rippling laughter leaped 
the limpid brook, 
From springs among the hills, 
where it began 
And joined with other rills and down- 
ward ran. 
Its joyous way through marsh and mead 

it took, — 
A most eccentric, zigzag way, to look 
Beneath the brush and sedge that al- 
most span 
The straits it made itself, with no wise 
plan, — 
And eddied much at every turn and crook. 
It purled along, and plunged among the 
rushes ; 
The slender reeds rang out a symphony; 
The lilt of leaves, from overhanging bushes, 



d)c ^ealDto ^roolt 



Mellifluous mingled in the melody ; 
The borders beam with ox-eyed-daisy 

blushes, 
And hark ye to the trill of sweet-voiced 
thrushes ! 
The bluets bloom along the brooklet's 

bank, 

Below, the poisonous weeds grow strong 

and rank ; 

So beauty, near the beastly, you will find. 

Acquires charm and sympathy combined. 

The bluet's cups so modest are, you 

know. 
That you must search to see their azure 
glow. 
The dancing brook with greeting and ap- 
plause 
Received the lilies in its charmed caress, 
The while the lilies to its bosom press, 
And when their petals closed, slow, stole 
aside 

123 



C!)c iHeaioto iSroofe 



To pour libations, where the woods di- 
vide, 

To gods and nymphs who in their revels 
pause 

To greet the gracious brook, and gleeful 
sway 

Their shadowy forms in filmy folds of 
spray. 

The merry wanderer stopped not long to 
lave 

The elfins dallying in the liquid wave, 

But narrowed 'tween the hills and swathed 
their sides, 

And bathed the ferns that bend to flush- 
ing tides, 

And peeped into the haunts of hiding 
bats. 

And stirred the finnies, in their darkened 
holes. 

That skim the surface for the tempting 
trolls, 

124 



S:f)e ilteaUoto ^vaak 



And brightly shimmered on the spreading 

flats; 
A cottage passed, and pretty lawn, to float 
A truant urchin in his rustic boat, 
Strong built, in stolen hours, of bark and 

slats — 
He trustful here, safe from the birchen 

hides. 
Unmindful of his task, while fear divides 
With joy his heart's tumultuous pitta- 
pats — 
On flowed the brook 'tween gardens rich 

in bloom. 
The village neared, and filled the tanner's 

vat, 
Nor lingered, listening, to the rustic's 

chat, 
But threw the shuttle for the laboring 

loom. 
The spindle turned to stretch and twist 

the thread, 

125 



Cfje iWeaUoto ^roDfe 



To weave into the workmen's well-wrought 

web, 
The mill-wheel turned to grind the grain 

for bread ; 
And insects, birds, and beasts, both wild 

and tame. 
To slake their burning thirst at noontime 

came. 
To them all hallowed, and to heart of 

man, 
The blessed brook, that, unsuspecting, 

ran — 
As rippling rills, before, too late, had 

learned — 
Into the treacherous creek, and ne'er re- 
turned. 



Here by the brook I sit, no one is nigh. 
While from my heart, unconscious, steals 
a sigh, 

126 



8r|)e ;Pleatr0to ^ronfe 



When I remember this same gurgling 

sound 
Of water running o'er the pebbly ground ; 
And spreading wider, years ago, than 

now. 
When I sat listening from this hillock's 

brow. 
The brook too wildly ran in nature's 

course. 
And it was curbed, and caused to run, 

perforce. 
Outside the meadow, in straight line, till 

came 
The bend, at this green bank, and here 

the same 
Old way it takes, and widens as before. 
And murmurs now, quite as it did of 

yore. 
Why do I sigh at sounds recalling youth ? 
What have I done in all these years, for- 
sooth ? 

127 



C^e iWeaHoto ^rooli 



Of peace, content, and ease, I 've had full 
share, 

Nor know more favored mortals any- 
where j 

Then why regret the past, and wish for 
more 

And richer years to add to my lost store ? 

O youth so fair, so full of love, so sweet ! 

Couldst thou return again and wing my 
feet. 

Should I be willing simply to exist 

To keep with love a tryst, and die not 
missed ? 

To ever long to lead a useful life, 

And yet avoid the burthen, work, and 
strife, 

The retrospect ! A barren waste it seems. 

When death will end, and quench life's 
brightest dreams. 

Why ask more years, unless to leave be- 
hind 

128 



Jleatjoto ^roofe 



Some worthy work, to please and bless 
mankind ? 



Here is a mound with stone at either 

end : 
Beneath I know there lies our fine old 

friend 
And beautiful, the lady, Topsy Cook, 
Whose name is written in the blue-blood 

book. 
The fleet of foot, the proud, the high-bred 

mare 
With satin sheeny coat, and silken hair, 
And pretty pointed ears, and nostrils 

large, 
A picture for La Bonheur or La Farge. 
When down the grade she pranced with 

easy grace, 
Or leaped the gate, and ran with rapid 

pace, 

129 



EU ileaUoto ^roofe 



Her silken mane back floating from her 

face, 
Her every move betokened noble race 
Her dainty feet so lightly touched the 

grass 
That it upsprang, and smiled when she 

did pass. 
O pretty lady, sleeping by the brook, 
How sad I am on thy green grave to 

look; 
How many memories of the sweet, sweet 

past 
Come back with thine, and will forever 

last; 
How proudly thou, beside thy elder mate, 
Didst measure steps to suit her slower 

gate ! 
Light feet made music as they pattered 

down 
The asphalt pavements of the streets in 

town, 

130 



;i|lleatioto ^roofe 



But when to country roads your heads 

were turned 
The soft earth flew, the wind my cheeks 

has burned. 
The mettle of your older mate revived, 
Both sniffed the air, and at the end arrived 
All white with foam, and snorting with the 

race, 
Then homeward turned and drove at easy 

pace. 
As tender lambs were never meant to 

brave 
The winter blast, or coarsest food to crave, 
Nor high-born beings meant to bear the 

rough 
And rugged treatment of the rude and 

bluff, 
So, gentle creature, thou wert never made 
To patient bear the lash or fierce tirade 
Of cruel man, who dared thy back to 

goad, 

131 



Cl^c iWeaUoto -Brooli 



When struggling overburdened with the 

load; 
Nor could, like sturdy Norman, strong and 

staid. 
Unflinching step on paves uneven laid ; 
But in the shaded park, on well kept 

drives. 
Thou wert, for us, one pleasure of our 

lives, 
And in the country on the soft, smooth 

earth. 
Thou wert the proudest beauty of the turf. 
By accident, one slender fore limb lame, 
With her good groom, to these fair fields 

she came 
Where oft before she 'd come, for ease and 

rest. 
She knew the place, and nearing faster 

pressed, 
Nor thought we then that all of life she 'd 

spend 

132 



C|)e iHcaUnto -JSronfe 



In pastures green, here at her journey's 

end. 
With freedom of the fields, she showed 

her pride 
When her fleet offspring cantered by her 

side, 
Still lame she leaped high o'er the gate 

and stole 
Into this lot to see her pretty foal. 
For love of her, the lady Isabelle, 
She maimed herself for life, sad tale to 

tell. 
Before this time, her lameness almost well, 
She came 'tween every one and lady Belle, 
But growing sadly ill, her eyes bespoke 
That care of her, that human hearts in- 
voke. 
With pained expression on her face, she 

sighed — 
With mournful look in her great eyes, she 

died. 

133 



€U iileaUDto ^roofe 



This place described to me, I knew the 

spot, 
The brooklet's edge, down in the meadow 

lot. 



While near its brooding mate the watchful 

quail. 
Surveying from the fence's topmost rail. 
Descries our Bobby, nosing close the 

ground, 
And running here and there, and round 

and round ; 
When, whist ! the sentry bird gives quick 

alarm, 
Decoys his foe, his mate escapes from 

harm; 
Assured he whistles, keeping Bob in 

sight, 
When he with sudden bound puts them to 

flight, 

134 



C^e iWeaUoto ^roofe 



Beyond his reach upon the fence they 

light. 
He 's learned, when on the public ways we 

drove, 
He must not chase the fowls that outside 

rove. 
In them, his eye a close resemblance 

sees 
To tame, almost domestic birds, like 

these. 
He hears their whistle, sounding like his 

name, 
And knows how quickly he could catch 

the game. 
He hesitates, for he is taught to mind, 
He ought not chase them, but he 's so in- 
clined ; 
Appeals to me, to see if I approve 
The late result of his adventurous move. 
Now turns this way, lest he should fright 

them more, 

135 



C|)e iHtaUoto ^roofe 



And they are silent as they were be- 
fore. 



Well I remember, it was long ago, 

From out the shrubs, here, where the 

brook is slow. 
Would partridge bevies, trustful, come and 

go; 
No hunter's gun to fright with murderous 

snap, 
Nor willing hand to set the cruel trap ; 
So tame, they 'd come almost within my 

reach, 
While I sat 'neath the shade of spreading 

beech. 
A stately wood was where these willows 

grow, 
And wider channel for the water's flow, — 
Wild roses bloomed below the little fall, 
And woodbine, repent, caught high over all. 
136 



S;!)c ilcaUoto ^roofe 



I walked this pebbled margin to and fro ; 
A darling prattler, with short step and 

slow, 
My finger held, and bent with wood-nymph 

grace 
To see in water-glass her dimpled face, 
Or ran before a floating leaf to chase. 
Fair Vida, then a lovely infant small, 
With toddling step pursued the partridge's 

call j 
Her sunny hair escaping from her hood. 
She clapped her hands, to fright the 

speckled brood. 
Claytonia's cups were not a softer pink 
Than baby's face, of which I love to think ; 
Nor fairer the anemone than now 
The comely maiden with reposeful brow. 
That radiant child, now gentle maiden 

grown. 
Seems two sweet sisters that I long have 

known, 

137 



Cf)e ;Pleat(oto -^Sroofe 



Distinctive each, one was my youthful 

care, 
The other solace present, yet so fair 
That light a radiance catches from her 

hair, 
From golden crown of glinting coils so 

rare. 



I 've often thought, securely walled around 

To th' water's edge, this eastward sloping 
mound 

A fitting place would be for burial ground. 

The murmuring brook would peaceful re- 
quiem sound, 

With granite vault above, where willows 
bend. 

And flowering vines, a cheerful air to 
lend. 

Secure and undisturbed the dead could 
wait 

138 



€\)t ileaUato iStDofe 



Their resurrection to a future state. 
Here from tlie crowded churchyard we 

could bring 
Our precious dead, while yet 't is early 

spring, 
And hither come to visit oft the place, 
Recall the spirit, and the hidden face, 
With naught upon the quiet to intrude, 
Naught to disturb the welcome solitude. 
The dread, the fear that all feel, e'en the 

wise, 
Will vanish somewhat, if, at our demise, 
By friends beloved, we know reserved is 

space 
For us, and pleasant scenes surround the 

place. 
When all the kin together here repose. 
And no one comes the gate to ope or 

close ; 
When strangers in the old home mansion 

live, 

139 



C!)e iEeaUoto ^roolt 



Who ne'er a careful thought to this place 

give, 
The brook alone will chant a mournful 

threne, 
Th' invaded home where purest joys have 

been, 
We judge the future, as we 've known the 

past, 
And think what has been, at our will, must 

last; 
Our thoughts o'er scenes familiar widely 

range, 
Behold them ! time has wrought bewilder- 
ing change. 
See that far crimson line, how still it 

lies ! 
As it were lasting picture in the skies. 
Yet it will change, before I turn my eyes ; 
It slowly moves, it now begins to rise, 
And change is everywhere, its order wise ; 
Although it separates, and severs ties, 
140 



iWeaUoto ^vook 



It still is for man's good. 

What do I see ? 

What mean those lines of stakes that 
cross toward me 

The neighboring field, and, by the way, 
this mound, 

The brook, and onward through the home- 
stead ground 

Up toward the village, through the mea- 
dow lot, 

Include, poor lady Cook, thy burial spot ? 

The iron-road will pass here where I 
stand, 

A culvert there, and bridge to the lopped 
land, — 

No chosen place but pushing man, or 
state, 

For greed of gain, will sometime dese- 
crate. 

Nothing so sacred, but the fiend of trade 

Will sacrifice, e'en private rights invade. 
141 



Ci)e iilealioto ^roofe 



The cemeteries open wide their graves, 
And yield their treasures, be they lords 

or slaves. 
The rumbling iron steed comes rushing 

by; 
To th' dust of ages resurrection 's nigh. 
O dust and death ! So grimy, grim ! I 

pray 
You take yourselves far from my thoughts 

away ! 
'T is time enough, your gruesome selves 

to show, 
When darkness supersedes the sunset's 

glow. 
But now the sky, a bright, illumined sea, 
Sends back its brilliance to the heart of 

me. 
Exultingly, supported wave on wave, — 
As bathers lithe in limpid waters lave, 
And sportive rise, then fall, then smoothly 

float, 

142 



C|)e ifHealiniij ^raofe 



With rhythmic motion, in harmonious 

note — 
Away, through air elastic, gently stirred 
By sweeping wings, far o'er the freshened 

earth, 
Toward deeper azure floats a single bird. 
Rejoicing in its strength, and spring's new 

birth. 
Our spirits blithe upmount on unseen 

wings, 
When free from weight of sublunary 

things, 
And revel, as in dreams, where only 

fair 
And lovely creatures meet in upper air, 
Ethereal beings, who together there 
Exult in that the glad awakening brings. 



Few moments more of day ; a dense gray 
cloud 

143 



1 



d)e iJleatoto ^roafe 



Breaks up, and billowy waves the sun en- 
shroud ; 

Beyond the gray are silver flecks and 
frills 

That edge the sapphire depths like run- 
ning rills. 

Now chariot wheels appear, and mounting, 
Day 

Assumes the reins, and slowly rolls away. 

Kaleidoscopic change ! What ruby glow, 

And orange yellow, incandescent, throw 

On all the landscape round their mingled 
light, 

Ere veiled in mist appears the sombre 
night ! 



Once more I wander 'long thy grassy 
slope, 

Where beauty hath rare charms and am- 
ple scope, 

144 



Cl^e ;peaUoto ^roofe 



And music reigns supreme in nature's 

nook, 
And listen to thy purling voice, dear brook. 
How soft the springing turf, how sweet 

the air, 
How in the shining waters mirrored fair 
Are greening banks and graceful swaying 

boughs. 
Where strolling herds on tender herbage 

browse, 
Or restful stand the ruminating cows. 
Whose slothfulness no stranger's step can 

rouse ! 
What scenes of loveliness thy whole course 

yields, 
As, southward, through the undulating 

fields, 
Thy limpid waters, plashing, thread their 

way, 
Till in the greedy creek they lose their 

sway. 

145 



ilHeaSDto ^roofe 



The lambent flames of parting day leap 

high 
Above the waving line along the sky, 
That forms by distant, gray, and leafless 

trees, 
'Tween emerald wall and sky, a running 

frieze. 
The sunset flames are mirrored on thy 

face. 
Ere they to darkness and to night give 

place. 
Dear brook, so gently flowing at my feet. 
Your pleasant sounds my heart with wel- 
come greet. 
'T is long since I sat here in solitude, 
On this green bank, surrounded by the 

wood, — 
The sweet, fresh wood, that since, with 

ruthless hand 
Was felled, to add more space to meadow 

land. 

146 



er^e iHeaioto ^vatsk 



The many changes, since that good old 

time, 
I fain would ring on words in pleasing 

rhyme, 
But, not well used to play the muse's 

part. 
My verse falls far behind my throbbing 

heart, — 
The birds are joyous, flitting here and 

there, 
And now the range is clear, to show us 

where 
The mansion windows glow like diamond 

panes. 
Behind the transient blaze a steady light 

remains, 
Reflected from one being's holy life ; 
The moon of home, the friend, long since 

the wife 
Of one whose reverend head lies 'neath 

the ground, 

147 



)e ;PUalioto ^roofe 



Whose word and work and worth made 

him renowned. 
His silver tongue, persuasive, led the 

way 
To holy church ; he 'd served till he was 

gray, 
And when he 'd lived th' allotted time of 

men, 
He laid aside his priestly robes, and then 
Sustained by faith he 'd preached for many 

years 
He looked beyond life's bourn, and had 

no fears. 
Can there be other place more dear on 

earth 
Than this where dwells the blessed who 

gave us birth. 
Who, full of years and wisdom's wealth, 

still reigns 
For us, behind those shining window 

panes ? 

148 



8ri)e ;plealiotD ^roofe 



How peaceful is her home, where trellised 

vines, 
And maples tall, and sweetest scented 

pines 
A background form, as I to eastward 

look, 
And talk to thee, responsive, sweet-voiced 

brook. 
What peaceful quiet in this place abounds ! 
I hear no noise save thy own gurgling 

sounds. 
Or chirp of passing bird that seeks its 

perch 
Near new-made nest, on limb of yonder 

birch. 
I '11 cross the stepping stones that bridge 

the pool ; 
The ground is damp, the air is growing 

cool. 
No longer dazzling gleams of orange 

light 

149 



®!)e jHeati0to ^rooii 



O'er orchard gray reflect from cottage 

white, 
And twilight's sombre mist will soon en- 
shroud 
The range of northern hills, so high and 

proud, 
That loftily o'ertop this mansion here. 
As it o'erlooks the pretty village near. 
Now falls the setting sun quite out of 

sight. 
And hooting owls proclaim th' approach 

of night, 
Who slowly spreads her misty veil, and 

steps 
From hidden places, subterranean depths, 
To brood in darkness till the torchmen 

come 
To light the million lamps in heaven's 

dome. 
Good-by, dear, babbling brook ! I come 

no more, 

ISO 



C^c ^eaUoto ^rnoli 



Though I love thee, and all these scenes 

adore. 
Adieu ! adieu ! I go far, far, from thee, 
Though all these scenes so sweetly speak 

to me. 



151 




€|je 25eecf> lip tfje 2B»roofe 

HIS spreading beech, with strong 
and shapely bole, 
Presents a polished bark for 
carver's knife, 
And lovers, who along this brooklet stroll, 
Initials carve they would combine for 
life. 

Some here are carved that have united 
been — 
Who knows but by a Dryad hither drawn 
One seeks the other, when their names are 
seen, 
And love's fruition follows from love's 
dawn? 

The beech-nuts bursting from their bris- 
tling shells 

152 



i 



Cf)e iSeccf) bp tl)c ^roofe 



Enrich the earth with their delicious 

mast ; 
And wild things gather stores for winter 

cells, 
And, cheerful, chatter with the helpful 

blast. 

The squirrel holds a sweet-nut in his paws, 

And sits erect, with plumy tail uplift, 
And nibbles, hulls, and then the kernel 
gnaws. 
Then hides and hoards, with diligence 
and thrift. 



How merry, free, and joyous seem the lives 
Of all the creatures of the field and wood ! 
They feel no fear that fortune, that de- 
prives 
Mankind, will take from them their 
home and food. 
153 




E singing pines, that heaven- 
ward grow, 
And firs, with foliage ever 
green, 

Through summer's heat and winter's 
snow 
Good sentinels you 've ever been, 
To overtop the old house, so 

That from the distance first you 're 
seen. 

The maples strive, and elms, to reach 
Your grander height ; the blossomed 
trees, — 
The apricot, and pinkish peach, 

And fragrant apple, — such as these 
Make up in flower and fruit what each 
In grandeur lacks, in height to please. 
154 



I 



QLht IJinea 



Sweet breath of pines ! To come and go 
From where the stifling atmosphere 

Of dust and smoke unnerves, that so 
One longs for meadows, and the dear, 

Delicious scents the blooms bestow. 
The birds and singing pines to hear. 

Sweet song of birds ! Sweet scent of flow- 
ers ! 

O golden beam when sunset wanes ! 
Soft light that girds green, leafy bowers, 

That gilds the spires and village vanes, 
And glows where crest of hilltop towers. 

And bends the bow in gentle rains ! 

O calm twilight ! and trembling stars, 
And lulling sounds, that later cease. 

And moon behind the amber bars, 

And downy bed, and sleep of peace, — 

Deep, restful sleep, that nothing mars ; 
From thought of care, O blest release ! 
155 



Cf)e IJines 



O joy, to wake with no demand, — 
No strain of mind or thought of work, - 

To burden take with weary hand ! 
But only rest, till rest may irk. 

Till from the quiet stretch of land. 
And from the pretty, country kirk, 

The time arrives, away one goes ; 

But not till health and vigor come 
From perfect rest and sweet repose. 

Then when one hears the city's hum, 
From morning dawn to evening's close. 

The busy world seems less humdrum. 



156 



Mf^ta in "fairp fmscrjsf 




MOST charming, sylph -like 

creature ! 
Every motion, every feature. 
Is a poem in itself ; 
Starry eyes 'neath long-fringed lashes 
Scintillate with diamond flashes, 
Hearts become at once her pelf. 

Lips with sweetness quite unstinted, 
Like begonias coral tinted, 

Shaped like Cupid's graceful bow, 
Lips, — between them white pearls peep- 
ing, — 
O'er the tongue a strict watch keeping, 

Careful of its accents' flow ; 

Richest accents fond ears greeting, — 
That is loved most is most fleeting, 
157 



jai)ea in ** JFairp iFinsew 



Sweetest tones soon die away. 
Like a vision, sylph of beauty, 
Flitting through routine of duty ; 

Is her duty all mere play ? 

Does she find in life a meaning 
Deeper than the math and gleaning 

Garnered from behind footlights ? 
Does she long for home's dear pleasures, 
For its quiet and its treasures, 

Weary of the garish sights ? 



158 






^M 



HOW delicious ! All my senses 

thrill ! 
Whence come such odors ? 
Only gods distill 
The nectar delicate, so rich, so rare, 
And only once a year, when spring is 
still 
But young, and her sweet breath steals 

everywhere, 
Through every motion of the perfumed 
air. 



II 
It is the incense of the crab-tree flowers. 
Buzz-z, buzz-z, buzz-z-z, as if the heavenly 
powers 

159 



Crab=^pple iSIossomd ant j^onep ^eee 

Made special odors sweet for honey- 
bees ; 
As they did know such nectar lasts few 
hours 

They come in swarms, and cover, flush, 
the trees, 

And sip, and sip, and carry on the 
breeze 

Their precious wine-store, leaving only 
lees. 

Ill 
Work ! work ! buzz ! buzz ! Ye busy 

winged things, 
The choicest honey hoard the season 
brings, 
Fill all your waxen cells, and others 
plan, 
Nor rest till every hive is full, and spring's 
Supplies to summer's yield ; for then the 
ban 

i6o 



Crafi=9lpple ^lofisomB anU ponep ^ees 

Of your worst woe, that selfish monster, 
man, 
Will rob you of your best, your winter 

store, 
And you must doubly toil, toil all the 
more, — 
'Tween cool spring showers ? No, — 
through summer's heat, 
Through wasting heat, that on your hives 
will pour, 
And melt, and dry, and bitter make the 

sweet. 
No rest for weary wings, or tired feet. 



i6i 




€lje €ruant^ 

EAR Mary, gentle friend of 
schoolgirl days, 
I S^Sr^ Whom heaven long since 

hath claimed, 
Thy cheerful face I often see ; 
Thy gleaming eyes, so full of glee, 
Come sweetly smiling back at me. 
Thy old love truly named. 

Ah, when from books and class we truant 
stole, 

The fields were green in May ; 
Away, away, we wandered far, 
Nor cherished thought our peace to mar, 
To follow 'cross the rocky bar 

The river's rambling way. 

We waded where the water shallow spread, 
The shining fish to catch, 
162 



©1)0 ertuante 



And, weary, on the high rock lay, 
And ate our frugal lunch that day 
With appetite that only they 
Who widely roam can match. 

Too wise were we, no doubt, in our con- 
ceit, 

Much wiser then than later ; 
How charmed with everything about us ! 
The world could not exist without us ; 
Important factors, none could doubt us. 

Not e'en our Alma Mater. 

That day of stolen sweetness nearly 
spent. 
The fairest of the spring, 
We toward the Hall turned footsteps 

staid. 
Expectant that our escapade 
Would ire evoke, and change of grade 
And reprimand would bring. 
163 



Cl^e Crttants 



So, subtly, we an offering brought to 
those 

Our welfare aimed to guide ; 
The violet, and creamy flower, 
The meadow beauties of the hour. 
Atonement, to avert looks sour. 

Make peace, preserve our pride. 

Effectual ruse ; all blame we did escape, 

And studied more to please : 
And pleasing others, happily, 
They gracious were, and glad were we, 
Nor cared again to truant be 

When no one it did tease. 

And memory recalls the lovely days 

When autumn-painted leaves 
Came rustling down about our feet. 
To gather, wade in, pile, and heap, 
While strains of songs we oft repeat 

In key the clear air cleaves. 
164 



CI)e Evmnta 



Those nutting days, when distance did not 
count ! 

At least, not in the outing, 
Till hunger warned of luncheon time ; 
A dozen girls, without a dime, 
To take a melon thought no crime. 

After the morning's scouting. 

Irate, the farmer came, with scowling 
brow; 

When Loura, to appease him. 
Gave promise in papa's good name. 
'T was starve or steal, were we to blame ? 
He surely would condone the same, 

To pay the debt would please him. 

Dear Loura was so lissome, pretty, purr- 
ing, 
That out of every scrape 
She bravely brought us ; making faults 
Seem virtues, she would whirl a waltz 
i6s 



eClje Crttants 



Behind the man, with mock assaults, 
That made his good wife gape. 

She crusts and yellow butter kindly 
brought — 
" Her fresher bread was baking, 
The dear girls should not starve," she 

said. 
As through the cabin door she led, 
To her clean table, where of the spread 
We were soon partaking. 

I look where snow-clouds drift against the 
blue; 
One face I love to see. 
And in my mind sweet thoughts arise, — 
The old " Pierian Nine's " strong ties, 
"The Task," "Night Thoughts," and 
" Paradise," 
Come freshly back to me. 

i66 



(2ri)e Crttantfi! 



Miss Agatha, the Marys, Lottie, Loura, 

Among the nine were they. 
In Telemaque, Racine, Corinne, 
One Mary did the honors win, — 
Her Greek and Latin helped her in 

A glib and wondrous way. 

In th' ethereal world and fields elysian ■ 
Sweet spirit, can you tell ? — 

As here, do simple things give joy ? 

Is life pure love without alloy ? 

Is there no evil to annoy ? 
Are all things with you well ? 



167 



€f)e jW:oming httah^ 




Y the lifting clouds of mist, 
Night is fleeing, night is whist ; 
By the flushing orient. 
Starry night will soon be spent. 



By the buoyancy of hearts, 
The elixir morn imparts ; 
By the sense of strength renewed 
With awakening morn imbued ; 

By the light on mountain crest, 
With the early morn impressed ; 
By the glint on silent lake, 
Truly, now, the morn doth break. 

By the songbird's cheerful notes, 
Full of glory, morn upfloats, 
By the hush of insects' hum, 
Morn is coming, morn hath come. 
1 68 



€i)e #Iti 0^an 




NCERTAIN, slow, the old man 
goes; 
A tear is trembling in his 
eye, 
The end is nearing, well he knows. 
His hundredth milestone is hard by. 

His head is bowed, his sight is dim, 
His ear has long been deaf to sound, 

All whom he loved have passed from 
him, 
A broken reed in marish ground. 

His children, weary with the weight 
Of man's allotted years, have died ; 

He, derelict, without estate. 
Hath on chance charity relied. 

169 



Cj)e ©IB iHan 



Now, feeble, once so firm his feet, 

Now weak, his arms were once of 
brawn. 

On wayside stone he takes a seat 

Thus musing on his manhood's dawn : 

" When this old, withered form was young 
And full of agile, leaping life, 

These lisping lips love's anthems sung, 
Were with light speech and laughter 
rife. 

" This broken voice rolled smooth or 
rough, 

In wooing strain or mocking mirth. 
That youth of passion, rude and bluff — 

Hath it in me renewed its birth ? 

" The thrill of bygone scenes I feel ! 
The boys ! old boys ! come one, come 
all! 

170 



C!)e ©la illan 



We '11 match our strength , see who sh all reel, 
And who shall on the other fall. 

" Come ! sport and wrestle as of yore, 
Ye brawny sons of sinewy sires, 

Come on, another bout before 

This mortal strength in me expires ! " 

Up from the stone he supple rose. 
Erect, his eye with light agleam, 

In attitude to grapple those 

Pale phantoms of his o'erwrought 
dream. 

He grasped at air with wondrous strength. 

Poor, aged, paralytic man ! 
And fell, to measure his full length 

Across the roadside's grassy span. 

He silent lay, as he were dead. 

All through that balmy June day long; 
171 



C^e ©15 ;Plan 



The kindly stone hid his gray head, 
Unnoticed by the passing throng. 

And when the twilight's gentle breeze 
Fell softly on his wrinkled face, 

A good Samaritan bent knees 
To see if life therein had trace ; 

Perceived a movement of the mouth, 
A murmur soft, and then a sigh ; 

The opening eyes turned to the south. 
With look expectant, toward the 
sky — 

A cloud-like form appears to rise, 
With arms outstretched and spread- 
ing wings, 
A trail of light sweeps o'er the skies, 
Anthems of praise the night wind 
brings. 



[72 



C^e (Bla iHan 



A whisper ! " Wife ! My Mary's face 
A move, as if to press her head 

Against his breast, in its old place ; 
A moan ! a moment ! he is dead. 



173 




€|je <Btjitx of 2Dap 

AR eastward see the reddening 
day, 
With rich effulgence gleam- 
ing, 

Creeps slowly up o'er mountains gray, 
To wake the earth from dreaming ; 
Responsive voices manifold 
Reecho from the walls of gold. 
The song that never will grow old, 
The praises new, though daily told 
By tongues of thousands teeming. 

To slowly rouse from night's repose,. 
Perchance from pleasant dreaming, 
To see the light the rifts disclose 

Through scattering clouds soft stream- 
ing, 
And know it is the God of day 
174 



C|)e (Soil of ^Dap 



Who deigns to wake us in this way ; 
Ungrateful we, should we not raise 
Our voices' sweetest songs of praise 
When first his rays are beaming. 



75 



^hjeet pUgnrntttt 




PLEASANT thought I send to 

thee, 
With blossoms of sweet mignon- 
ette. 
Perhaps when you their beauty see, 
And odors breathe, you '11 not forget 
To think of me. 



Sweet mignonette, go do your best 
With perfume sweet to fill the air, 
Attend, I pray, to my behest. 
And gain the thought of my love fair 
On me to rest. 



176 




Y precious roses withered lie, 
They clustered thus for days 
have lain, 
Their leaves are faded, crisp, and 
dry, 
But some sweet odors still remain. 

They were the gift of friendly thought, 
A sweet surprise and joy to me, 

They came unlooked for and unsought, 
And are most welcome come from thee. 



177 




HE twilight dews fall softly o'er 
the fields, 
And mingle with the sweets the 
mown grass yields, 
And silence over all its sceptre wields ; 

Save that, to toot a tune, a youthful swain 
Upon his horn exhausts his breath in vain ; 
While Hugo howls as if he were in pain. 

His master gone, the village news to learn, 
He keeps a faithful watch till his return ; 
In canine hearts such warm affections 
burn. 

Poor Hugo fears some evil will befall 
The pretty hamlet that such shrieks appall, 
Alarmed, he cries, his master to recall. 

178 



IPaetoral ^txats 



With joy of life, my eye on beauty bent, 
When I, with Hugo, to the hilltop went, 
To see the sun before his rays were 
spent. 

The meadow smooth, shorn of its sea of 

grass, 
" A heavy yield," the farmers say, who 

pass, 
" And plenty left, to glean, for lad or lass." 

The sun went down, behind embattled 

crags. 
And thrust his fire-fangs through their 

frays and frags, 
While round the earth a tongue of flame 

he drags. 

The everlasting hills ! O God ! are they 
Not emblems of thy strength ? At close 
of day 

179 



fjagtoral Wv6t6 



How grand they stand against the cloud- 
banks gray ! 

The dews condensing, at the utmost edge 

Of forest outline and uneven ledge 

Fill up the crevices with darkening dredge. 

And straight and smooth the rim, like 

wall of stone 
Impregnable, encloses earth alone, 
Excluding nether space, a walled zone. 

When Hugo ran upon a rabbit's trail, 
I, pensive, leaned my elbow on a rail, 
And watched a cloud-ship sorting on a 
sail. 

Pale lights were burning on the strand, 

the sea 
Cerulean, grandly bore her,. floating free ; 
When Lady Belle came prancing up to me. 
i8o 



|)a6toraI iSersee 



O, pretty lady, grown so fine and tall ! 
So gentle, sleek, and trim, and fleet withal. 
You 've come to see me, though I did not 
call. 

How like your pretty nose and lovely 

eyes 
Are to your lady mother's ; not likewise 
Your form and color, — there the differ- 
ence lies. 

Your gait is hers, and so your dainty 

way 
Of slowly eating these few straws of hay ; 
The Norman swallows all without delay. 

Come, Billy Norman, step aside, I say, 
You 're kind and good, but such a mon- 
ster, pray. 
Let lady come between, now, wait that 
way; 

i8i 



|)a£!toraI ^txsts 



While I her sleek sides stroke, and braid 

her mane, 
And part her forelock from her eyes ; in 

vain, 
She '11 toss her head and throw it back 

again. 

Soon you will come with me, ma jolie 

Belle, 
To the far city, where with pride will swell 
Abdalla's heart, to share with you his 

cell 

For like a prisoner, he now pines alone, 
Since Lady Clyde has left him there to 

drone. 
While her footprints in pastures sweet are 

strewn. 

We will not bind your head with over- 
check, 

182 



|]a£itaral ^tv&ts 



Restrain the movements of your graceful 
neck, 

Or clip, and maim, to false your form be- 
deck, 

It cruel seems to curb your spirit's tone ; 
I should not think so of the Norman roan, 
Or of the good St. Lawrence, mother's own. 

I fear you will regret, when far away, 
The brooks, and hills, the range of fields, 

. the bay 
St. Lawrence, Billy, all, regret for aye. 

But with Abdalla, ancient Kitty Clyde, 
The freedom of a court and box-stall 

wide, 
I hope, with all, you will be satisfied. 

Good-by, good lady, twilight fades from 
view, 

X83 



|)a£itoraI ©etsefii 



I feel the moisture of the falling dew, 
Good-night, to Billy, and to both of you. 

Here, Hugo ! Hugo ! Leave the rabbit's 

trail, — 
While I have trifled, out of sight the sail, 
And o'er the sea is drawn a darkened 

veil. 

Here, Hugo ! Hugo ! We will to the cot, 
Where peaceful age reposes, we will not 
Disturb their rest by waiting on this spot. 

Here, Hugo ! Hugo ! Come along with 

me, — 
Asleep the lambs, and in the hive the bee, 
The doves are nestled in the balsam 

tree — 

Here, Hugo ! Hugo ! Stars are shining 
out. 

184 



|)a6toral ^txsts 



At last ! you come, and how you leap 
about, 

There, down, wet-paws ! Did you the rab- 
bit rout ? 

Now home we go, you, to your little bed, 
Like all young things, you 're never quickly 

sped 
In that direction — Hugo, run ahead ! 



i8S 



<!Booti^bp 




UR ship is ploughing through 
the sea, 
Good-by ! Good-by ! 
And bearing us far, far from 
thee, 
Good-by ! Good-by ! 
There will be moons ere we return 
To friends for whom our hearts will yearn, 
Good-by ! Good-by. 

Sweet hope will buoy us o'er the wave, 
Good-by ! Good-by ! 

But should the ocean be our grave, 
Good-by ! Good-by ! 

By hope sustained, we still shall see, 

And through the future watch o'er thee, 
Good-by ! Good-by ! 

186 



j^totfjet 



OTHER dear, I know you're 
sleeping 
Beneath the old home roof, 
And the angels there are keeping 
The vigils of love's proof. 




You hear them softly chanting lays 

In rhythmical refrain, 
And dream of friends of other days, 

Soothed by each suasive strain. 



Dear, you write, I 'm never lonely, 
Though I alone remain. 

For tlie Heavenly Power only 
Can comfort and sustain. 
187 



IV 

I feel the weariness of age 

Come slowly creeping on, 
And know that soon the final page 

I shall have written on. 

V 

O, say not so, but will to live 

For many years to come, 
For quiet peace long life will give, 

Because your heart is young. 

VI 

Live for the love of those most dear. 

Whom Lethe cannot sever. 
Those of your blood, till th' end they near, 

And cross the Styx together.' 



1 88 



gfnbitation 




ILLEE-BOY, Billee-boy, What 
are you doing ? 
The blackbirds caw, and the 
gray doves are cooing, 
The goldfinch is here, with exquisite 

song. 
The robins, building, the day would pro- 
long. 

The apple-tree buds are bursting and 

swelling, 
The pear trees are white, at south of this 

dwelling, 
And things are waking, in greenness and 

glory, 
Romance, refreshing, of newly wrought 

story. 

189 



SniJitatiott 



Billee-boy, Billee-boy, did you but know 
With dandelions the mead is aglow, 
With cream hepatica, and lush bluebell, 
And down by the burn your sweet-wil- 
liams swell. 

The burn, on rampage, with spring rains 
aflush, 

A thousand bright blooms, on its borders 
blush. 

The wild birds follow the furrows upturn, 

The ploughshare sets squirming the angle- 
worm. 

The pisces perceive and plunge for the 

bait, 
The thrill of a nibble you need not long 

wait; 
The speckled partridge comes oft to the 

door. 
Now that the season for shooting is o'er, 
190 



STntoitation 



This May we miss you, as many another ; 
Come gladden the hearts of sister and 

brother ; 
Not as of old will it seem to you here, 
The mother away, — but come to us, dear. 



19] 




WAKE, ye birds, and sing ! 
Awake, awake, 't is spring, 
Chant, chant a roundelay, 
We call for song to-day. 
With gladness sing. 



No answer to my call. 
No notes on my ear fall, 
No sight of flitting bird, — 
My voice has not been heard ; 
Where are they all ? 

Ah me ! ah me ! ah me ! 
This pretty wing I see 
Shows plainly reason why 
One bird does not reply 
In song to me. 



^Tmprotnpttt 



With sacrifice like that 
Shall I adorn my hat, 
Destroy a life of song, 
Do all the world a wrong, 
For, simply, that ? 

How many thousand wings, 
Of every bird that sings. 
Of birds whose hearts are torn, 
Spring bonnets now adorn, 
And other things. 

Fair ladies do not smile, 
Pray haste to change the style, 
And spare the lives and song, 
That will, our hearts, ere long. 
So sweet beguile. 



193 




|HESE pretty rose-leaves scat- 
tered so, 
I '11 gather, with their pinkish 
glow, 
And in this paper pressed 
I '11 give them to my sweetheart true, — 
For they are like her cheeks' fair hue, — 
To wear upon her breast. 

And they will breathe my love to her, 
Where'er she moves, if she but stir. 

They '11 yield their odors sweet. 
If answering thought she will bestow, 
Of love on me, how shall I know 

When we again do meet ? 

Her eyes may tell me when we meet, 
But not one word, she 's so discreet, 
194 



Eose=iUabe6 



Then she would have me woo. 
I '11 plead my own love at her feet, 
With sighs, and few words, short, and 
sweet, 

! Love, love me, will you ? 

And if perchance she will return 
Such love as in my heart doth burn, 

1 '11 take her to my life, 

And like the swallow in the spring, 
I '11 build our nest, and to it bring 
My own, my love, my wife. 



195 



€fje M>^an of ^bon 



OME centuries ago there was a 
birth 
Of an immortal being on this 
earth ; 
He came in poorest, humble, human 

guise, 
And looked with wonder into mortals' 
eyes. 

He stretched forth arms, instead of plumed 

wings, 
To walk the earth like other plodding 

things, 
He grew strong nether limbs and stronger 

trunk, 
Ate food, and from the cup of mortals 

drunk. 



196 



8r|)e ^toan of atjon 



He moved among his fellowmen as one 
Who from the self-same origin had sprung, 
He did the drudgery of common life, 
Made friends, made foes, made love, and 
took a wife. 

Beneath the roughest outer coat con- 
cealed 

Lay latent god-like strength, which time 
revealed. 

He saw with minute, microscopic gaze 

Through nature's plans, and wondrous 
winding ways. 

He saw atomic things, as one who peers 
At guiding stars, with knowledge of the 

seers ; 
Naught was o'erlooked, though mean, or 

weak, or small, — 
To his storehouse he gathered gems from 

all. 

197 



CI)e S)tDan at ^tbon 



He wrote of power, of wealth, of state, of 

grace, 
And painted pastorals time cannot efface ; 
He touched, and waked the chords of 

memory dear, 
And bared the thoughts of peasant, priest, 

and peer. 

He in unrivaled strains of pathos wrote, 
In merry humor, or with cheerful note, 
Of passions, hate, grief, joy, love, hope, 

and fear ; 
On every varied theme wrote great Shake- 
speare. 

What bard so living, dead, and dead, divine. 
Whose every page in golden letters shine, 
With jeweled thoughts that all men pause 

to hear ? 
No other than the peerless bard, Shake- 
speare. 

198 



. e. ^. ». 




HOU needst no marble for thy 
monument, 
There need no graven shaft be 
upward sent 
To hide the greening grass above thy 

grave, 
Nor loud-mouthed praise need to the air 
be lent. 

For thou hast left a record that will 

keep 
Thy memory green ; thy songs will never 

sleep, 
But wake a tender tremor in each breast. 
Sweet as ambrosia to a god's lip pressed. 

In foreign soil, 'neath starry flowers and 
skies, 

199 



fav6, e. ^. ^. 



Thy tomb is sought by friends with eager 

eyes, 
Regretful that alone thou there dost sleep, 
While in thy native land thy life's love 

lies. 

Celestial climes will wake thy tuneful 
lyre; 

But touch its chords, the charmed, cheru- 
bic choir 

Will list to finer strain than e'er before 

A tremolo upon the vibrant wire. 

The spirit that is fittest doth survive. 
All who have really lived are yet alive, 
The many disappear and leave no trace, 
Abortive beings, too inert to strive ; 

For whom time nor eternity have place ; 
For earth or heaven the unfit neither 
grace, 



iHrs, e. ^, -38. 



Are simply with life's struggle overcome, 
Nor find they room in intermediate space. 

If thou, sweet singer, in the highest sphere 
Art angel called, thou wert an angel here, 
A being of too fine a sort, too rare, 
To dwell in clay, so thou didst heaven- 
ward fare. 

O let some trace of thy suave spirit stray, 
Like Ariadne's thread our steps to sway, 
To elevate our muse to nobler height, 
To charm, and cheer, and calm our vary- 
ing way. 



i]N the spirit's sphere no sub- 
stance separates, 
No intervening bar divides 
love's mates, 
There thought transference, unobstructed, 

free. 
Will guide each soul to its affinity. 




Thus seeks our muse the realm unknow- 
able, 
To give to us a heaven, to others hell, 
To say what in the spirit world may be, 
While wasted hours in speculation swell. 



EAR mother of us all, again in- 
fold 
One whom we love, and in thy 
bosom hold 
Her mortal form, from whence the life has 

flown, — 
So beautiful, like marble, still and cold. 

O Mother Earth, again take back, I pray, 
To thy kind breast, this mould of finest 

clay 
That we have loved so well, the cherished 

form 
From which the sweetest spirit passed 

to-day. 



The fairest daughter of an honored 
house 

203 



Has parted from her life, her child, her 

spouse ; 
Unconsciously she went without adieu 
To e'en the loved and dearest whom she 

knew. 

To shroud her in fair, fragrant flowers, we 

seek 
The rose, the whilom color of her cheek, 
Blue violets, the color of her eyes, 
And line her tomb with pine from moun- 
tain peak. 

The willow will its sweeping branches 

trail. 
And boreal fingers sweep them in the 

gale ; 
A mournful threne will tremble on the 

air. 
And on her grave will fall the hail and 

rain. 

204 



But thou wilt hold her, mother, to thy 

breast, 
Preserve the clay that thou hast gently 

pressed ; 
Bid summer bring the asphodel to bloom 
Above her sacred place of perfect rest. 
January 8, 1900. 



205 



^ 2Drop of ^ittttm^^ 



wo wedded hearts received their 
new-born babe, 
In tender arms the little one 
was laid, 
A marvel and a mystery it seemed, 
A gift more rare than they had ever 
dreamed. 

Each look, each motion was a sweet sur- 
prise, 

A promise of great things in their fond 
eyes, 

And when the tongue the first word lisped, 
O joy! 

More loved than ever was the darling boy. 

Dear angel of the mother's life and heart, 

How hard it is from him so soon to part, 

206 



a ^rop of bitterness 



To hear no more the merry childish voice ! 
O drop of bitterness ! there is no choice. 

The bitter drop was in the sweet cup 

stirred ; 
But such blessed memory will ne'er be 

blurred, — 
His little hand may hold the thread that 

leads 
Through labyrinthine ways and flowery 

meads. 



207 




€0 M. %. ^. 

jHAT time the memory may not 
efface, 
I will these farewell lines indite 
to thee ; 
Long parted from old friends, of kin, and 

race, 
The same earth now will cover them and 
thee; 

And those of stranger blood, till now thy 

friends, 
That knew thy better self and spirit true, 
To-day will gather where the last rite ends, 
In tears, fair flowers about thy corse to 

strew. 

From irony and sharp, satiric speech, — 
O'erbalancing thy wit of gentler strain, 
208 



Co E. 1, p. 

Repressing soft expression, that would 
reach 

Thy kindred's hearts, and sympathy re- 
tain, — 

Thou wert almost an alien, save in name, 
But since death's call, thy gifts of love 

have shown — 
As smouldering fires burst sometimes into 

flame — 
More heat at heart than thou hadst cared 

to own. 

The poor and lonely saw, through all dis- 
guise, 

That human thoughtfulness and tender 
love 

Were lent to guide them on the road that 
lies, 

The uncouth way of poverty, above, 

2og 



Co E. i. p. 



Now thou art gone, I would I 'd known 

thee better, 
And helped to heap the pleasures of past 

years, 
That for kind words and deeds thou 'dst 

been my debtor, 
Then I should not for my neglect shed 

tears. 




SFn a^cmotp of sr^risf. €♦ 25* 

HE autumn touched the fading 

life of things, 
That, seared and singed with 
summer's burning sun, 
Awaked, and struggled for the life that 

springs 
Anew, more radiant than when first be- 
gun. 

More radiant, but more evanescent, too, 
The autumn bloom in dying glory flies. 
The passing beauties, tender passions 

woo. 
Till in the tomb the glory hidden lies. 

There one now lies who lived to bless, and 

blessed. 
To scatter her good dower along the way. 



f tt iftemorp of fHxs, e. -58. 

Her life with plenty crowned, its sweets 

she pressed 
For others, — sweets returned to her each 

day. 

Her useful life grew slowly to its close ; 
Friends, faithful, wait, who would the end 

delay ; 
She, peaceful, passed regretted to repose 
When sank the sun one loveliest autumn 

day. 

The place that knew will know her now 
no more, — 

Her presence will be missed in seat and 
aisle, 

By all at church, who worshiped there be- 
fore 

She parted for her honored, long exile. 




SDear ^. %. 

OW sad the news that chance 
hath brought to me, 
Of one I loved in youth, that 
she is dead ! 
When last I saw her, musingly she 
said, 
" We always were true friends, as friends 

should be ; 
And, strange to say, we always could 
agree ; 
We never quarreled, never had a dread 
Suspicion of each other, but the thread 
Of truth and trust bound closely you to 
me." 

My childhood friends are separated far, — 
Are fewer now, for some from earth 
have fared ; 

213 



Dear p. 1. 

New friends not quite the same, though 

pleasant, are, 
But from the nebula there shines one star ; 
For me its true and steady light is 

bared ; 
And blessed am I, that she for me hath 
cared. 



214 




OW eighty-nine to ninety yields 

the palm, 
And makes his exit with pro- 
found salaam ; 
The year at first passed slowly, then more 

fleet, 
All through the bitter mingling with the 

sweet ; 
More prosperous far than previous years 

a number. 
That shrouded brains, and bonds, in 

clouds of umber. 
Some noble lives this bore to blessed re- 
pose; 
Heaven hoards such souls as parted at its 

close. 
Where equatorial warmth its influence 
sways, 

215 



Intensifies the passions, buoys or preys 
On their possessors, there joy jocund flies. 
With wiles to wrench from woes the sting, 

till dies 
A people's hero, crushed by their lost 

cause ; 
Then latent love, through intervening 

pause 
Unconscious, wakes, — is startled to have 

. slept. 
A people's hero, brave, beloved, bewept, 
By higher summons called to rank once 

more, 
His gentle spirit heavenward angels 

bore. 
To render homage, all their vigils kept 
And through sun-land a grievous sorrow 

swept. — 
A period here to punctuate a pause, 
Then point an index to the coming clause, 
Of passing history, politic in part, 
216 



And pitiful, appealing to the heart. 
Republics new arise from thrones vacated, 
Imperial lives, made homeless, death un- 

mated. 
Dom Pedro knelt beside his wife beloved, 
Long knelt so dazed he neither spoke or 

moved. 
Deposed, exiled, in foreign land alone, 
His greatest grief was parting from his 

own 
Best partner of the past eventful years ; 
O'erwrought with woe, his eyes refuse 

their tears. 
The empress, lovely exile, longed to bless 
Her child, her friends, to give a last ca- 
ress ; 
But they were far beyond the billows' foam 
That spread a pall between her heart and 

home, — 
In that strange land, upon the ocean's 

main, 

217 



T)eposeti 



Of castles old, where wealth and power 

wane, 
She dying, lay ; no one in priestly guise, 
No friend to catch the light of her kind 

eyes. 
" Alas ! Brazil, Brazil ! I shall no more 
Return, O beauteous land, to thy fair 

shore." 
She said, and died, nor saw her liege the 

last. 
He, summoned, came, to find her life had 

passed 
To higher court, beyond celestial skies. 
Then in deep grief he closed and kissed 

her eyes. 
How pitiful that sorrow should have ended 
Her Highness' life, by husband unat- 
tended. 
Confessor, home, and friends and loves 

remote, 



218 



When cruel death her weary heart-chords 

smote. 
Her requiem sung, she was in silence 

laid, 
'Neath Lisbon's old Pantheon's gloomy 

shade. 
A few more revolutions marking time — 
How grand the movements, regular, sub- 
lime ! — 
Abreast of them come incidents, events, 
To fix the dates for good or ill intents. 
The royal realm of thought hath lost its 

king, 
Deposed by that invulnerable thing 
Called death. Ah, happy he on whom 

shall fall 
The mantle genius dropped; when dropped 

the pall 
O'er Browning's bier, bereft is poesy 
Of her devout and noblest votary, 
Her true and forcible interpreter, 
219 



Who will continue songs and rhythms 
with her 

Who waits him in that wondrous, psychic 
sphere, 

Where rough-hewn thought is crystal cut 
and clear; 

Where myths, illumed and lucid, will un- 
fold 

The hidden things to mortals here un- 
told ; 

Where metre, measures, harmony extend 

Through rhythmic worlds, and song-words 
have no end. 

Sleep, gentle ashes ! rest, in peace repose ! 

Where sleep the ashes, in the temple's 
close. 

Of blest immortals, Chaucer, Cowley, those 

Song-souls to whom the world all honor 
owes. 

Midnight between the years ! Meridian 
past, 

220 



The chimes have changed to merry peal 

and fast. 
Joy of the new ! The old year is deposed, 
And all accounts with eighty-nine are 

closed. 




HE little one reposes 

Beneath the willow tree, 
And no white stone discloses 
Where it lies quietly. 
Beneath the snow, no one can know 
The spot so dear to me. 

The wee, white hands are fastened 

About a faded rose ;- 
My soul, so sorely chastened. 

Through all the darkness knows 
The spirit free will solace me 

Ere from the earth it goes. 



A face before me gleams, 
A rustle of white wings, — 

When I awake from dreams 
That peaceful slumber brings, 



^aip ^elen 



The heavenly sphere seems now more 
near, 
And I to holy things. 



223 



^arajpfjra^re 




OW quiet she, 
Tears in her eyes ! 
Upon her knee, 
There open lies 
A time-worn book, and gray, and old ; 
Some leaves a memory unfold. 

Some faded leaves 

Lie on the page, 

Like crumbling sheaves 

In withered age ; 
Now grandaunt bends her ancient head, 
And silent weeps, for one long dead. 



224 




€^t ^ixytett^t M>mQ^ Die on tlje 

I HE sweetest songs die on the 
air, 
The dearest loves find wings to 

fly. 

The brightest blooms are everywhere 
As transient as their scents that die. 

The fairest forms soon pass from sight, 
Their noblest graces fleeting fade, 

Divinest beauty yields to blight 

When they in transient tombs are laid. 

The precious friends whom we love well 
Pass one by one the blue Styx over, 

And sorrows that aggrieved hearts swell 
At last sink 'neath the pall's dark cover. 
225 



And Hope uplifts from out the gloom 
Of passing things, and desolation, 

And bears one buoyant 'bove the tomb 
Of death, to after exaltation. 



226 




J^ein %tMt iacoB 

EIN leedle Yacob goes to 
schleep, rocked in his cradle 
bed, 
Der angels come der vatch to keep, above 

his schone head. 
Und ven he vakens oop he '11 tell his mut- 
ter vot they said. 

Eins, zwei, drei, vier, fiinf, lashes fall, und 

eyes no longer peep, 
Sweet schmiles flit o'er dot papy face und 

make der timples teep. 
Now softly spread der towny cover, Yacob 

is aschleep. 



227 



]liontieau 




HY voice, so silvery sweet, 
So rippling, rare, 
Comes from a heart full fraught 
with joy complete. 
Who hears it may with other sounds com- 
pare 
Thy voice so silvery sweet. 
To hear it and not see. 
One knows how fair. 
With such a heart and voice, thy face 

must be, 
Alight with eyes, a laughing, liquid pair — 
To hear it, and not see. 



228 



a Cfjilti'^ f aitft anti feat 




]S a child, my doll I tended, 
Clothed in silks its form so 
supple, 

Saw its eyes on mine were bended, 
Shining 'bove its goffered ruffle. 

Surely, thought I, this so pretty. 
Pink-white babe is like my brother, 

Though it cries not, out of pity. 
For its little, doting mother. 

Oft I wished my doll were living, 
Prayed to God to start its breathing, 

Waited fearful, though believing ; 
Thought its breast began upheaving. 

229 



a €lilV6 jFait!) wcca iFear 



Which with nervous fear perceiving, 
Awe, the moment, love effacing, 

Brought my heart to sudden grieving, 
Dolly broken 'gainst the casing. 



230 



f <!5ooti ^tppttmmt 



A LA W. W. 




SING the mint ! 
I, the sweet singer, 
Of the clear throat, 
Of the rich voice. 
Of varied range ! 
I, known, and yet unknown ! 
I, minstrel of the brooks, and fields, 
And their concomitants ; 
The lover of the sun. 
The lover of the clouds, 
Of mountains, of the woods. 
Of vales, of the great waters ; 
I, adorer of nature, 
And worshiper of God, 
You hear me ! 
My flying steeds, sharp, snap sunbeams 
athwart, 

231 



pe (SooB JDeppermint 



With steel-shod hoofs, shake highway dust 

a rear, 
And clip the clinging sod caressingly ; 
Distend their nostrils, breathing in deep 

draughts, 
Through their expansive chests, 
The ozoned atmosphere ; 
Then, gallop up the steeps, and skim the 

plains. 
Splash through the stream, and cool their 

foaming sides, 
And pant, one moment, on the sanded 

beach. 
I sniff the healing balsam on the breeze, 
That, crushed by lightest touch, the mint 

exhales ; 
The wholesome balm of pain-assuaging 

herb. 
The ancients, of the Orient, knew so well, 
Essential to the julep, and to me ! 



232 




£r^p ^pmpl^ottie^ 



IMPROVISE my symphonies, 
" The wild wind whistling in the 
trees," 

Now sighing, sobbing, as, to thee, 

Beethoven, scowling so at me. 

II 
I whistle, shrill, with light touch, free. 
Then beat a bold blast boisterously, 
From all the keys, with pedal pressed, 
Responsive all to my behest. 



You draw your bushy eyebrows down, 
Look straight at me, and darkly frown. 
Why look so cross, so very black ? 
My " Laughing Song," what doth it lack ? 
233 



Mv ^pnipl)onie6 



My best 1 it does not seem to please ; 
With such a scowl my heart you freeze 
And still. For you I shall not sing. 
From Liszt I will a pleased smile bring. 



My variations him surprise. 
He heavenward, happy, lifts his eyes ; 
And now my song doth upward soar, 
As joyous lark's when winter 's o'er. 

VI 

A smile may bring the sweetest air 
From vocal chords when, au contraire^ 
A chilling gaze, a galling glance, 
Will part song waves, as with a lance. 

VII 

Liszt wears a smile, celestial, bland ; 
But Mendelssohn, to understand 
234 



jUj) ^pmp!)DttWfi! 



His passive face if good or bad, 

I ne'er shall know what thought he had. 

VIII 

On minor scale I play the roll 
Of distant drum ; some helpful soul 
Sweeps from the keys continuous sound 
Such as from cavern depths rebound. 



Herr Wagner, looking far away 
With eyes agleam, compelling, aye. 
As flaming torch his soul alight, 
He from vast depths all sound would 
fright, 

X 

And help manipulate the keys 
To conjure all, till, on my knees 
I bend o'erwhelmed. Such thund'rous roar 
God Thor alone hath made before. 
23s 




€rue Cfjaritp 

HE moon looks through cloud- 
rippled rifts, 
The snow through tree -tops 
sweeps and sifts, 
And cold and cross the growling wind 
Seeks smallest crevices to find ; 

And sends a chill to poor men's bones, 
And sighs and soughs in sobbing tones. 
Derisive of the coughs so hoarse, 
And croaks, that follow its rough course. 

Now shivers he who lacks the fire, 
And many a frail one will expire 
For need of heat-conserving fleece. 
For need of funds to pay the lease. 
236 



Cttte Cliariti) 



To guide the world and fling the grain, 
Till on the poor would plenty rain, 
Would make a sovereign better than 
One born to reign, — a selfish man, 

Who thinks his will and regal state 
Suffice gross greed to expiate. 
Could one but be a billionaire, 
To give the wheat without the tare. 

Give all the poor the grain they need. 
For food and for the sowing seed. 
Would be a happiness, no doubt. 
That never will be brought about. 

The worthy poor we here do mean, 
Unworthy rich we do not screen. 
The worthy rich help him who delves, 
And all those poor who help themselves. 



237 



jHE little birds chirp in the trees, 

The little buds burst into leaves, 

The gray earth stirreth in her 

sleep ; 

Breathe deep the air, breathe deep, breathe 

deep! 




How many a song, full sweet and strong, 
Has struggled to escape me ; 

The strangled note dies in my throat 
When vocal powers forsake me. 



Then comes a time when rune and rhyme 

Swell into song quite clearly, 
And Trilby-like, each note I strike 

Of octaves four, or nearly. 
238 



Above these four I whistle more, 
Wild-bird-like upward hie it ; 

Four notes below I cannot go — 
I dare not even try it. 



239 




J>onnet 

HE last warm rain has dropped 
from April skies ; 
Each tall, fine maple flaunts a 
plumed head 
Before my boudoir windows, that have 
shed 
Their dingy laces, veiling from my eyes 
Unfolding buds, that every glance sur- 
prise. 
The gaunt, bare limbs till now were gray 

and dead. 
Till April came in tears and, whisper- 
ing, said, 
I go, pray from your lethargy arise. 

The breezes through the tree-tops hotly 
chase 

240 



bonnet 

And stir the tender leaves ; the twigs 

they flail 
And gather germs to scatter in their 

race. 
Where will this April bide till th' next 

March wail 
Of winds gives way to her more winning 

airs, 
To beauty, and the bloom her white arm 

bears ? 



Time ! Time ! What hast thou done ? 
what changes wrought 
To pass so swiftly these eventful years 
And consummate so soon our direst 
fears ? 
Thou hast Death's unrelenting spirit 
caught. 

In foreign lands we health and pleasure 
sought ; 

241 



Sonnet 

New scenes and air the mental vision 

clear ; 
But absent thou didst sacrifice one 

dear, — 
For whom thou 'st taken both were dearly 

bought. 

Ah, Time, canst thou this Light of Home 

restore, 
Or, failing, us to her forevermore ? 

Then cease, ye silent, softly falling 

tears ; 
For oft this lesson she our childhood 

taught. 
When kneeling we our little sorrows 

brought 
And sobbed upon her knee and told our 

fears. 



242 




€jje (Eternal €itp 

ijTERNAL City ! memory brings 
to me 
The pomp and pageantry of 
festal days, 
The crowds that gather where the organ 
plays, 
And priests, and prelates of the Holy See, 
Who walk, and chant, and bless, and bend 
the knee. 
And censers swing, and incense from 

the blaze 
Ascends, and dense the smoke, and dim 
the rays 
Of candles in the dome's immensity, — 

A nebula of stars that, struggling through, 
Shows seas of heads in aisles, at altars 
too, 

243 



C|)e eternal Citp 



Some, bowing where the sacred relics 

stand, 
Are saying prayers with rosary in hand ; 
Pipes play, and flute, the shepherds' song 

they sing, 
And from the vaulted roof the echoes 

ring. 



244 




^EAR little lady of the youthful 
heart, 
Preserved through triple scores 
of parted years, 
What arm averts the cause of sorrow's 
tears ? 
What power from human ills keeps her 
apart ? 

Alone with tropic trees, and plants that 
bring 
Fresh fruit and flowers to her feet, she 

hears 
The tonic melody of distant spheres 
And drinks deep draughts from the ^ge- 
rian spring. 

245 



C!)e laUj) fsabcUe 



So sweetly sing the songsters 'neath her 
eaves, 
So softly falls the fountain's sheeny 

spray, 
So gleam the gold-fish in the sunny ray 
That shimmers thro' the philodendron's 
leaves, 
So sweet the scene and symphony of 

sound 
That these create her world in crystal 
bound. 



246 




€|>e portrait 

HAT limner can, with daring 
hand, unfold 
Unequaled grace like thine, 
my lady fair ? 
What pencil trace the fineness of thy 
hair, 
Or give the proper glint to coils enrolled ? 

Thy mien majestic he indeed were bold 
To hope to represent in pigments 

there ; 
Though he may paint the raiment light 
as air. 
The poise of head is tense, as 't were a 
mould. 

There is a semblance, I admit, to thee. 
And therefore not unpleasant can it be ; 
247 



E^t |)0rtrait 



But little patience have I not to find 
The eyes irradiate from the force of mind, 
And lips expressive, firm, yet always sweet, 
That utter words euphonious when we 
meet. 



248 



Mtt^ 



HERE is a soft and gentle spirit 
who 
So silent steals upon one, 
that her train 
Low rustles, lulls, as patter of the rain ; 
Her fingers have a soothing touch, like to 
Swan's-down against the cheek, when one 
would woo 
Repose that follows quick relief from 

pain, 
That beats the brow, and throbs within 
the brain — 
Then balm on wounds the velvet fingers 
strew. 

Know you this visitor? Comes she to you ? 
Then pay her court, receive her in the 
way 

249 



She wills ; but once disdain her, then re- 
new 
Your suit in vain. On grateful heads 
will lay 
Her tender touch ; care to oblivion deep 
She dooms, bends o'er the couch, this an- 
gel. Sleep. 



250 



€f)e ^inti 




HE blust'ring wind comes after 
sunny skies, 
And chills one's blood to where 
the marrow lies. 
It husks the buds, and spreads the push- 
ing leaves. 
And brightens up the sober brushwood 
sheaves. 



It shakes the early nests, the birds inure 

To greater toil to build them more se- 
cure. 

They stick with mortar, bind with straw 
and hair, 

And chirp and sing the while, each tire- 
less pair. 

251 



^It Win^ 



The wind, so merciless to weakly things, 
Unnumbered blessings to the stronger 

brings ; 
It sends the turbid blood along the veins 
On • rampage, waking stupid, sluggish 

brains. 
It sifts the air of all that would be foul, 
And stirs dull thought beneath the priestly 

cowl. 

II 
The wind gives woodmen work 'mong 
shattered limbs. 
It dries and kills the useless, upturned 

weed. 
And helps the sower scatter far the 
seed. 
It sweeps the hilltops, cuts its way and 

skims 
Through lowlands, city, country-ville. It 
trims 

252 



CI)e Winn 

Superfluous rubbish, gathers the un- 
sound 

And perishing enswathed upon the 
ground, 
And shows where strength is sacrificed to 
whims. 

We read a lesson in its path, and find 
How human frailty suffers by the wind. 
Hygeia, disregarded, raves and gains 
Her foolish proteges through racking 
pains. 
The careless keeper of the human frame 
Succumbs, as does the structure weak and 
lame. 



Although the ill of ill-winds ill begets. 
It does not follow that all wind is ill. 
The Father tempers it to lambkins 
still ; 

253 



C|)e Win'a 



The healthful bairns it buffets, beats, and 

frets. 
But strengthens limbs and freshened glow 
abets. 
We hear with fear and awe its rush and 

roar, 
Are lonely when it sighs about our door. 
And think of spirits paying life's last 
debts. 

It whips the withered leaves that still 

would cling, 
A brown unsightly mass, far into spring. 
It rocks the ship, and wrenches with its 

blast, 
And twists and warps the sail, and 
wrecks the mast 
Take heed and build for time, 'gainst 

wind and tide, — 
Build staunch and strong, then let the 
tempest ride. 

254 



€^t 0li^tt 




HY art thou like a toad so 
miserly, 
To keep thy jewels hid where 
none can see, 
To count thy gold, and gloat upon its 

sheen, 
And clothed in rusty rags, make life so 
mean? 



'■SB 



€|)e J^abbatfj 



HIS day we breathe young 
April's balmy airs, 
Auspicious day of healthful, 
hallowed peace, 
Of heavenly restfulness, and blest re- 
lease 
From thoughts tempestuous and from 
worldly snares ; 

From hurried steps, that track us un- 
awares. 
Would cross the threshold, but we bid 

them cease, 
And turn away, to take a longing lease 
Of holy Sabbath's sacredness and prayers. 

We hail the day with wisdom set apart 
Of seven the best, the acme, if you will, 
256 



C^e S^abbatl) 



When introspection, with insidious art, 
Impales each sin, the mind inspires, and 
heart, 
With stronger aims and firmer purpose 

still, 
To be, believe all good, to banish ill. 



257 




|0W fall the dainty feet where 
carpets yield 
To slightest pressure on their 
velvet field ; 
And like a flight of angels, young and fair, 
The sylphlike creatures flit adown the 
stair. 

While others from the out-world, white 

and cold, 
Emerge from furry robes and downy fold. 
Soft shake their plumes, and pat their 

fluffy curls, 
And float into the dance's mystic whirls. 

The lights are shaded to a softened blaze, 
And threading through the lancers' tan- 
gling maze, 

258 



Ci)e ^Ifitttattte'fii ^all 



White slippers chase the Houris' fleeting 
band. 

The wily arrow-god is close at hand, 

Where dart bright beams ; his swift return- 
ing dart 

Shies eye and rosy cheek and strikes the 
heart. 



259 



WW ^f)an Be our i^ational 
floiuer? 



I 

WEED prolific is the golden- 
rod, 
Its anthers, full of pollen, fill 
its flowers, 



The wind its summer gold-dust sifts in 
showers. 
And sows its seed in autumn on the sod. 

Tall spikes of tiny bloom to breezes 
spread ; 
All gold, with black and gauzy gown 

I 'd wear it ; 
But then I sneeze and sneeze till I for- 
swear it, 
And dash it to the ground and on it tread. 
260 



WW gj^all be out iSatianal jFIotocr ? 

Far better choose the laurel or the bay, 
Fit emblems each of this young na- 
tion's fame, 
That from small source has made a 
lasting name 
And place among the peoples that are gray 
And hoary with the ages that have 

passed ; 
The nations realize this fact at last. 



'Mid long and glossy leaves the laurel 
blooms 
In charming clusters ; stamens stately 

stand 
Encircled by the petals' pinkish band ; 
Profuse it blooms in June, and this month 

dooms 
Its transient decoration ; then there looms 
The tree, with blossoms unadorned, 
leaves dark, 

261 



WHt 6!)aII be our JBattonal JFIotoer? 

Unfading green ; the bole with russet 
bark 
Is bound; nor leaf or flower yield per- 
fume. 

But of the two the better is the bay. 
The leaves are neither glossy, yellow, 

golden, 
Or gaudy ; but the bay, from good times 

olden, 
Has heroes, honors, homage emblemed ; 

aye, 
The noblest brows have borne it, — men 

of name, 
The gods and demigods, well known to 

fame. 



262 




WEET singing birds, your wings 
were made to soar 
Far toward the vault of hea- 
ven, thro' ether blue ; 
Your voices were to charm your short 
lives through. 
To ward off danger threatening evermore. 

In fearful forest silence you restore 
The hopeless sportsman's courage, 

wake anew 
Desire his course uncertain to pursue ; 
Out of the wood he hears your voice no 
more. 

At forest rim your song and beauty 

swoon ; 
For danger past, the hunter all too soon, 
263 



^toeet ^inffins ^irUs 



With shot, will drop a trophy at his feet 
And hush within your throat the dying 

note 
That, to his listening ear was ere so 

sweet ; 
Your pretty plumes will his love's crown 

complete. 



264 




OW insects slowly stretch their 

gauzy wings, 

Unfold them, flap, and flutter 

forth to fly. 

The sun is warm, the air is still and dry, 

There is a stir among all sensuous things. 

The wriggling worm its winter wrapping 
flings. 
Unfettered, its new world and life to try. 
To pierce the earth, the seed-buds push 
and pry, 
And from the thawing mould the leaf up- 
springs. 

The sap is threading through the tree's 
void veins. 
Till, all a- throb, the twigs begin to grow, 
265 



Ci)e 3ltoafecmii5 



The bole's loose bark is burst by winds 

and rains. 
Soon Daphne hides her where the green 

leaves glow. 
The drum of wings, and chirpings shrill 

and sharp, 
Play variations on the vernal harp. 



266 



5n (Bmgt of Claptoniajsf 




LITTLE brown bird built its 
tiny nest 
Where zephyrs play among 
the singing reeds, 
And not a path in that direction leads ; 
But for claytonias roaming, I in quest 
Unwary it approached, unwelcome guest, 
And, ruthless, stirred the overhanging 

weeds 
Where largest pink -cupped beauties 
drop their seeds ; 
Away ran brownie with a ruffled crest. 

Come, timid mistress, warm your four blue 
eggs, 
And master-mate, pursue your matin 
song. 

267 



^Tn Attest of ClaptoniaB 



How whist is she, how shrill he chirps 

and begs ! 
I 'm sorry I affrighted you, dear things ; 

But trust me, I will never do you wrong ; 
I would not harm a feather of your wings. 



268 



5Foot}jrintjsf 




AN leaves footprints along life's 
changeful way. 
Here one is slight, but touch 
of toe and heel ; 
Another fiat, all parts the pressure 
feel; 
One toward the centre takes a downward 
sway. 



To him of light foot, all the months are 
May; 
His soul is on the wing and, false or 

real. 
He takes things as they come, for woe 
or weal, 
And never stops the good or bad to 
weigh. 

269 



jFootprmtfi 



Now flat-foot is more glum ; things must 

be square, 
And values weighed and measured to the 

hair, 
And not a penny either way to spare. 
The third is heavy, sluggish, slow of 
wit ; 
With duty dallies — stops within his lair 
And shirks, while fleet-foot hath accom- 
plished it. 



270 



i^er iy:atip^|)ij»*^ Huncjeon 



IS not that I above another 
sate 
Where one should honored 
be, or not, I own, 
A sense of simple pride at preference 
shown 
To me, more than to many, who of equal 

state 
Might think, with reason, they should 
higher rate 
As friends of longer standing, longer 

known, 
To this most gracious lady, grandly 
grown 
In elegance, and manner, and estate. 

'T is not the cause that through my head 
a rune 

271 



^tv laHps^p'fi Lttnc^eon 



And happy rhythm have set themselves 

attune, 
And almost shaped in words the quivering 

thrills 
Of happiness that loiter when one wills. 
I doff my hat, and slowly my last glove, 
And think the while 't is love for me, 't is 

love. 



272 



%(ttt tfje ^tutm 



HERE, up and out, I went at 
early morn, 
To hear the cheerful hum of 
birds and bees. 
The lyrics coming from the leafy trees, 
And chirping nestlings in the waving corn. 
And never have I felt, since I was born, 
More grateful for the freshened sum- 
mer breeze. 
The rain had fallen in torrents, swelled 
to seas 
The rivulets that through their banks had 
torn. 

The turbid waters broke their bounds and 
down 

The meadow grass bore 'neath the rub- 
bish brown. 

273 



mttv t|)e g)t0rm 



The hot uplands had drunk their fill and 

more, 
And sent their surplus to the flats to 

store. 
Thus bathed, perfumed, enrobed anew, 

all o'er 
Kind earth her sweets upon her bosom 

bore. 



274 




25e grateful for tjje %itt tjat t^ 

I 

AN mortifies the flesh, abstemi- 
our lives, 
And thinks thereby his God 
his sins will shrive ; 
Is sure of entrance when he shall ar- 
rive 
At heaven's gate, nor thought to the pre- 
sent gives ; 

Scorns worldly things and for the future 
strives, 
Nor dreams, one moment, that he may 

be hurled 
Back from the heights, to try a hotter 
world 
For this one greatest sin of narrow lives. 
275 



^e ffrateful for tlje life tl^at is 

With eye and ear alert seek truth, be wise, 
Let not the tongue be mute ; but to im- 
part 

The knowledge that will surely come, 
when sought, 

Be ready. Gems concealed in roughest 
guise 
Would ne'er emit a ray but for man's 
art. 

And gems of truth are never dearly 
bought. 

II 

Be grateful, thankful, for this gift of life. 
For this, the best world you have ever 

known ; 
Enrich existence ; let the seed be sown 
To yield abundance when the harvest rife 
Is by the reaper laid. The struggle, strife, 
Ends with the garnered grain, the fal- 
low field ; 

276 



^e ffrateftil for t|)c life t&at in 

The proof of time well spent shows in 
the yield ; 
And conscience clear fears not the mon- 
ster's scythe. 

For all that in them is, use God's best 

gifts ; 
Make most and best of them, nor idle 

time 
Which, well filled, ne'er will heavy hang 

or drag, 
But rather fail of hours enough to 

climb 
The heights where diligence will lead, nor 

fag 
We e'en ; for joy in noble deeds the heart 

uplifts. 



277 



€atpt SDiem 




ASTE not this life in brooding 
o'er the past. 
The full fruition of the pre- 
sent know. 
Live now. The richest wine of life comes 
last, 
Elixir that should not unstinted flow. 



278 



l^ehJ ieat'^ €be 



HE last year dying, this but just 
begun, 
I had not thought of being far 
from home, 
Across the ocean here in ancient Rome, 
To watch this out and wait for Ninety- 
one, 
The Hours' sands so strangely, swiftly 
run. 
But here am I, where I have longed to 

be. 
Enchanted with the world encircling me, 
So full of story from the ages won. 



I left the ball, and to my aerie lone — 
As steals to solitude a wildwood gnome 
Who loves the place that he may call his 
own — 

279 



jQeto pear's ©De 



Where hours ago, day parting from the 

panes, 
Left bars of light behind St. Peter's dome. 
Now, damp and chill are allies, streets, 

and lanes. 



280 



€(je €titxt0 

I 

ll/^ Bfc^lHIS spotless sheet does tempt 
V^M t^ii ^^ ^'~' ^^ write, 

[ ^^ I^H ^ That I will take my pen and 
dash away, 
And pray the muse not let it run astray, 
But help it a few verses to indite. 
My mind is not with inspiration quite 
Up to its normal standard this dark 

day; 
Though at the best, no doubt, it would 
display 
More instances of verse not recondite. 

But if my lines should ever find their 

way 
Into the world where critics have their 

sway, 

281 



C()e Critics 



And they should tear, and twist, and turn, 

and say, 
From this and that precursor I this lay 
Or that do imitate, and proof cite they. 
Why, then, they call me thief, and tears to 

pay. 

II 
Concede the critics partly right ; my rhyme. 
My theme, my choice of English, and I 

claim 
My right to make and sing my songs 
the same. 
In metre, limping measure, or in time ; 
But say they more than this, they me ma- 
lign. 
So far I plagiarize, more would I scorn ; 
E'en bread to earn, and not to borrow 
born. 
Would I assume another's verse were 
mine ? 

282 



C^e €xitit6 



III 
I think my conscience would accursed 
be 
Did I attempt a theft to thought com- 
bine 
Of cleverer brain with weaker thought of 
mine, 
Unless to clearly write a parody. 
And if to other's verses semblance mine 
Shall bear, may they in beauty be divine. 



283 



O^ctoBetr 




ESIDE the meadow brook the 
autumn leaves — 
Contrasting with the water's 
silver sheen — 
A brilliant carpet make gray rocks be- 
tween. 
Its shining web the spider deftly weaves, 
Nor from its toils poor prisoner he re- 
prieves ; 
Flings filmy hangings, for the huntress 

queen, 
O'er brake and bush, to hide their 
faded green, 
And bind the shaggy briers into sheaves. 

As silently a stray leaf falls and gleams 
Adown in waving line, detached and 
free — 

284 



(Bttobtv 



As love seeks love, and sympathy in 
dreams — 
Comes Dian with her dogs and golden 

quiver, 
Her shaft to send the spider threads to 
shiver, 
And trail where dies the game upon the 
lea. 



285 




I 

CROSS the field a summer morn 
I flew, — 
Apollo's rose-light rapidly re- 
cedes, — 
Drawn by sweet music where the rushes 
threw 
Their shadows o'er the pool the runlet 
feeds. 

Where, just beyond, a velvet mullein grew, 
I looked, and there saw Pan among the 
reeds, 
A.nd then from whence the sweet strains 
came I knew, 
And lingered, listening, hidden by the 
weeds. 

286 



|3an mCa ^prinv 



The. god consoled himself for Syrinx fled 

'Neath water lilies on the surface spread, 

And plaintive he anear the place did 

pipe 
To charm her back. The harebell's 
seeds were ripe, 
Upon the bank where he with her would 

wed. 
And make the fragrant turf their nuptial 
bed. 



But Syrinx hated Pan, nor would be wooed ; 
She loved her freedom and the forest 

wild, 
And followed Dian, of the chase be- 
guiled, 
And loved the baying hounds and wild 
bird's brood. 
To hear sweet Echo from the dark, green 
wood j 

287 



|Jan anU ^prinp 



She loved the things of sense, pure, un- 

defiled, 
And sank beneath, like an affrighted 

child, 
To find the water nymphs, and Pan elude. 

He sought soft strains to tell his love more 
truly, 
But all in vain; fair Syrinx, swift as 
thought. 

By nymphs was spirited to distant Thule ; 
Nor was the disappointed god dis- 
traught. 

For he another goddess soon did find, 

And piped to Echo and the changing 
wind. 

Ill 
Poor Pan ! in pity poets say ; not I ! 
As if the gods must win where'er they 
woo ! 

288 



IJati mca ^prtnp 



They think sweet Syrinx treacherous, 
not true, 
And goddesses condemn with loud outcry 
Who say them nay, and thither willful fly. 
And let poor lover pine or them pur- 
sue, 
When he, perchance, may find a Fair 
more new, 
And quite as pleased, her with his pipings 
ply. 

Some poets say. Poor Pan ! Poor Syrinx, I ! 
But oh, the plodding world the gods decry. 
And cherish not the fleeting, old ro- 
mance 
That sweetens life and all its joys en- 
hance ! 
The wood is only wood, no Dryads there. 
Of charmed imaginings beware, beware ! 



289 



gflJu^iott^ 




WAS in the silence of a shaded 
grove, 
An afternoon in sultry sum- 
mer time, 

A pretty maid, ethereal, pure, and prime, 
Against lethargic influence vainly strove, 
That dimmed the light romance her fan- 
cies wove. 
And filled her brain with merry song 

and rhyme. 
Till waking thoughts succumbed to 
dreams sublime, 
That bore her to the palace court of Jove. 

The god's stern brow relaxed ; with kindly 
mien 

290 



Snusione 



He looked upon the young intruder 
there, 
As he would welcome mortal so serene 
And make her goddess 'mong the others 
fair ; 
But Juno's threatening white arm thrust 
between, 
Fierce, drove her back, as tigress from 
her lair. 

II 
The rapture of romance that held be- 
fore, 
Enthralled, her being, in earth's para- 
dise. 
Had passed, and passed the glamour 
from her eyes. 
The things that had enchanted would no 

more. 
Each vestige, ruthless, from her heart she 
tore j 

291 



^Ilu6iaxis 



The threaded mesh that wily Cupid 
plies, 
A filmy veil, in shredded tatters lies ; 
All earthly blandishments she did ignore. 

For glimpse of the immortals she would 
soar, 

And wait upon the threshold of the 
skies, 

Perchance, till Juno on some errand 
flies. 
Great Jove will, more propitious than be- 
fore, 

Her make the queen of love and god- 
dess wise ; 

For now no mortal love will her suffice. 

Ill 
Ambition's ban misleads the fooHsh maid ; 
For, blinded to the real, canst thou di- 
vine 

292 



^Unrnna 



What disappointment will be surely 
thine ? 
How many ghosts of loves wilt thou see 

laid, 
How many jealousies thy heart will raid, 
E'en shouldst thou reach the pinnacle. 

Aline, 
Where sits the favored of the " Sacred 
Nine," 
Who muse together in Pierian shade. 

If favored of the gods, oh, then beware ! 
Although as true, and as an angel 
pure. 
Soft, timid, light of heart, and debonair, 
Thy smiling sisters, sly, will spread a 
snare, 
A web of honeyed wiles, t' entrap and 

lure. 
Or crush with word, t' make thee more 
demure. 

293 



I 

A lady, old, infirm, sat musing lone, 
In easy chair, beside the blazing fire. 
All day the snow had fallen, while a 
lyre. 
Wrought of the wind, had played in plain- 
tive tone. 
Now sharp and shrill, then slow, with 
mournful moan ; 
And her past life, a panoramic pyre, 
Was piled, event upon event, entire, 
To fall as embers dead fall on the stone. 

Her penitential prayers her sins atone. 
Each was as clear, as each did just tran- 
spire : 
A lack of charity in deed or word, 
294 



a laUp, (BVa, 2fnf irm 



Or, heedless, passing mendicant un- 
heard, 

Or unkind thought of one who strove 
alone j 

Each crept across the heart, its chords to 
tire. 



Still, silently she sat ; the fire burnt low 
As peaceful visions of the past flit by, 
Sweet smiles upon her pale lips softly lie, 
As friend communed with friend of long 

ago. 
The fire flamed up once more with lurid 
glow. 
The wind did beat against the panes 

and sigh, 
As fiends, their skill to wreck, were 
forth to try. 
At last it spent its force. The fire burnt 
low. 

295 



a latip, ©IB, Srnfiritt 



Before a footprint on the walk was made 

The gray old servant had the breakfast 
laid. 
With scarce a sound she crossed the 

polished floor, 
And opened cautiously her mistress' 
door ; 

She saw the smile that on her lips re- 
mained, 

She touched her hand, and knew that life 
had waned. 



The rosy light of morn shone through the 
pane 

And passing glow gave to the pallid face ; 

A heavenly peace pervaded all the place, 
As if the spirit had returned again. 

And kind friends smoothed her robe, and 
felt the pain 

296 



a laUp, ©lU, Sfnfirm 



Of parting less, to see that placid 

face, 
On which no sorrow left a shadow's 

trace, 
And unrepented sin had left no stain. 

When ripe in years, and wise with age, 

and staid, 
This lady's semblance, spiritless, was laid 
Within the sombre tomb's protecting 

wall; 
And monument and epitaph recall 
Her birth and death, and good deeds are 

portrayed 
As, ended all, as all were thus essayed. 



297 





1 



l^ma^, 1896 

HE storm, so pitiless, drives on 

the place 

This Christmas Day, where 

she the loved doth lie ; 

We do not understand, we know not why 

She left us for that narrow house, that 

space 
So small, where others sleep of ancient 
race, 
'Neath ivy green and grasses sered 

and dry. 
That cling as man to life, when death 
stalks by ; 
So cling their withered shreds to life's 
embrace. 

She left the scenes that she was wont to 
grace, 

298 



^mas, 1896 



Left not another the void place to fill ; 
Passed silently from active works that 
still 
Call for her, and her ever cheerful face 
Lies white and cold upon the pillow lace, 
While her sweet spirit lingers with us 
still. 



299 




€|je 2DeButante 

IE gladly greet the early buds of 
spring, 
Their flush, their tender leaves, 
their fragrance new, 
Their coming forth, all moist with morn- 
ing dew, 
As they had come from fairyland to bring 
Some music sweet in mortal's ears to 
ring; 
A song sans words, with trills, that thrill 

one through. 
And make one wish to be a rosebud 
too. 
Or other feathery, less substantial thing. 

Ah, fairy friend, this sonnet is to you ! 
I would your wand should charm all 
beasts away, 

300 



C^e ^ebtttantc 



And at your feet the richest blessings 
lay; 
That Beauty's choicest gifts, and garlands 

too, 
May make your life as sweet as it is true, 
A gladsome, happy song from day to 
day. 



301 



^htt a Summer ^IjotDer 




EFRESHING breath of rain- 
washed atmosphere, 
Reviving drooping spirits like 
old wine, 
Into my boudoir come where I re- 
cline, 
O'ercome with heat that hath for days 
ruled here. 



Oh, joy ! to see the big drops patter 
down, 
And mark the dusty window ledge with 

dots, 
And drive both man and beast to shel- 
tered spots. 
Then pour a great flood o'er the parched 
town ! 

302 



lifter a ^ttmmer ^liotocr 



Along the gutters muddy waters meet, 
And swell, and spread about the sewer 

drops, 
Half choked with flotsam from the littered 

street ; 
Now there the footman either wades or 

stops. 
The storm has ceased and brooding 

clouds disperse, 
And I am through my mood, so end this 

verse. 



303 




O lamps, I pray you, yet ; day's 
colors fade, 
And darkness, in a circle, 
spreads and broods ; 
A bat, swift winged, disturbs my silent 

moods, 
And darting low, too near my face in- 
trudes ; 
The robins call, most cheerful voice of bird. 
Are late to seek their perch and latest 

heard, — 
The while the blackbirds nestling, have 

not stirred, — 
Seek they their nests, with little light to 
aid. 

A far fire lifts and looms in flashes 
bright, 

304 



^atfenegfif irootis 



Some cottager will lose his cot to-night ; 

Gone up in flame and smoke his roof 
and things, 

The shelter prized that meed of comfort 
brings ; 

When wearing work he leaves as day de- 
clines, 

The loss of humble home will seem hard 
lines. 



305 



1892-1893 




HE week, the month, the year, 
all end to-night ; 
The clock ticks to the passing 
moment's flight ; 
Tick, tick, tick, tick, — how brief the mo- 
ments are ! 
I listen, breathless, for the funeral car. 
Led by the hour, to bear time's ghosts 

away — 
Maybe to future nothingness. These gray, 
Past periods such stars ^ have blotted out 
From the celestial cincture girt about 
Our earthly fane, that no more effluent 
light 

1 The poets Lord Tennyson, Whittier, Whit- 
man, Proctor. 

306 



;|HiSnta;l&t iettocen tfte pears 

From them will emanate anew ; no sight 
Of written word, no song the ear to guide, 
Or tender touch to sympathy allied ; 
But yet the lustre of their glory past 
The scroll of the dead years will long 
outlast. 



307 



Wl^at bain Become of €f)ee? 




OME, Muse of March, I have a 
plaint to write, 
Of mighty loss of precious little 
mite, 
That sang so sweetly all the spring days 

thro' 
And was my tiny friend, so trustful, true. 

By sad mishap this morn, in his wild 

glee. 
He flew through open window far and 

free. 
The clouds collect, the nights so cold 

chill us j 
What will become of thee, St. Andreus ? 



308 



^rooti not ujton tf^t ^a^t 




ROOD not so much upon thy 
former days, 
Unmindful of the things that 
in these lie. 
Then youth and love were found in plea- 
sant ways, — 
You part with youth ; oh, keep love till 
you die ! 



309 




|0W the gay throng at the Has- 
tings' assemble ; 
The day is propitious, though 
cold, bright and clear, 
The greetings and gossip a chaos resem- 
ble 
Of numerous voices aroused by good 
cheer. 

So high and higher as each new arrival 
Adds volume and zest to vocalization, 

Till, like music's medigeval revival. 

The sounds surge and swell as the voice 
of a nation. 

As waves gather waves in bounding old 
ocean, 

310 



lalies ©nip 



And rumble, and ripple, and rollick, and 

roar 
As t' make a grand sound were Neptune's 

one notion, 
To silence all else with their break on 

the shore, — 

So each lady's voice rises high and 
higher, 
And is lost and absorbed in the general 
roar, 
Till weary, and worn, and about to expire, 
She will, till the next one, such parties 
ignore. 



31J 




fantasies? 

SEE the faces in the trees 
And figures that my fancy 
please, 

I looked not long, nor looked in vain, 
This e'en, when through the window pane 
A pretty maid of modest mien 
Was waiting there, as she had been 
To give a graceful greeting when 
I came to look for her again. 
Her eyes were large and parted far, 
And lustrous as the evening star, 
Or like the eyes of gentle kine ; 
No other creature's are so fine. 
Unless, may be, those of the deer. 
So shy one cannot see them near, 
But eyes of kine appeal to me. 
The breeze is not more gentle, free. 
This fair June eve, with fragrance fraught, 
312 



iFautastefi 



Than is the form, so deftly wrought, 

In part of sky, part leafy tree. 

Her sheeny hair floats to her knee, 

And robe of filmy, flowing lace 

My Daphne's form does not efface. 

Some other faces, eyes, I see, 

But none more pleasing, more complete 

In contour and expression sweet. 

Or so enchantingly haunt me. 

The webbed recesses of my brain 

I search to see if they retain 

Impress of features I have known. 

Oh, when, oh, where, would they but own ! 

But no, my search is all in vain. 

Metempsychosis may explain. 

Dear Daphne, speak and tell me true: 

In earlier age, or in the new, 

Saw I your face where no leaves were ? 

Reveal yourself and tell me where. 



313 




^]{jm nigjjt corned tiohjn 

HEN night comes down, and 
stars shine one by one, 
I count them o'er, a courtly 
company, 
And think of Love, so far remote that 
none 
Save starry worlds can look on her and 
me, 

When night comes down. 

Two days have passed with mind much 
occupied. 
From busy plans and thoughts no mo- 
ment free ; 
With things accomplished I am satisfied. 
But leisure brings its loneliness to me, 
When night comes down. 
314 



Wfitn ntff^t (omefii Uotott 



The world becomes a blank, and near 
friends naught ; 
A heavy, dreary sadness falls on me ; 
I count the stars, recount them, till the 
thought 
Repeats itself : How wide and deep the 
seal 

When night comes down. 

How awful, vast, and dark the dreadful 
deep. 
That bears its precious freight so far 
from me ! 
Its minions glare at me and fright my 
sleep, 
White faces gleam upon the treacherous 
sea, 

When night comes down. 

Eternal God ! — I cry — wilt Thou not 
roll 



315 



W^tn niffljt cnmes Uoton 



Smooth back the gulfs of threatening 
mystery, 
And spread them, like an unoffending 
scroll. 
To print the stars that smile their 
thanks to Thee, 

When night comes down ? 

O Thou Eternal One ! I pray Thee keep 
Her in thy care. Bid harm and danger 
flee, 
Protect the travelers on the awful deep, 
And let her ship sail on a placid sea, 
When night comes down. 



316 




€f)e ^ottent of ^eace 

pVE doves in my garden alighted, 
Their presence presaging my 
peace ; 

Perturbed my spirits, affrighted. 
At portent of sorrow's increase. 

Five spirits anear us have parted. 
From life full of promise till late ; 

So sudden their call that it started 
A frenzy and fear of their fate 

In others j who, warned, have awaited 
With awe their swift summons away, 

And wonder why time is belated, 
Not dreaming the cause of delay. 

Five doves in my garden are cooing ; 

A soothing sensation of peace, 
From turbulent thought has come wooing, 

With portent of sorrow's surcease. 
317 



€]&e l^oice^ of tt^t l^igftt 




ENEATH a leafy bower of climb- 
ing rose, 
I lingered long within the gar- 
den's close, 
Secluded by the wall from vulgar sight, 
To listen to the voices of the night. 

Fair Cynthia more than half her face re- 
revealed 

At times, behind the mottled clouds con- 
cealed. 

Till all the clouds dispersed ; then she out- 
shone 

The stars, and satisfied, retired alone. 

From ups and downs and tumbles I have 
learned, 

318 



Cl^e mitts of tl^e Ms^t 



Our neighbors from their outings have re- 
turned. 
The children practicing on wheels and stilts 
Made merry music, hushed now 'neath the 
quilts. 

The cricket's chirp, a cheerful, homely 

sound, 
From dusky coverts peeping, near the 

ground, 
The shrill cicala, quite too near and late, 
Begins his concert with his shriller mate. 

Unpleasing, harsh, the chorus is to ears 
That love the sweeter solos of the spheres ; 
It drowns the undertones and softer notes 
That singing wind on chords ^olian floats. 



The forests felled, the streams will disap- 
pear, 

319 



Voices of t^t JBiff^t 



Conditions woodmen will not understand 
Till, drouth and desolation here, 
They find that arid land 
And want go hand in hand. 



320 



^ ftatf^tt of a ^itW Wm 




LITTLE feather of a bird's 
wing lay 
Between the pages of a pon- 
derous book ; 
I opened it to seek a truth one day, 
And in my hand the pretty plume I 
took. 

Since this gray thing has been in upper air, 
Where spirits meet when first from earth 
they float, 
It now perchance may write what they 
up there 
Would send — a message or a music 
note. 

And when I held it lightly it began : 
" Pursue the truth and find it, hold it fast; 
321 



SI iFeatl^er of a dirt's Wins 

'T is plain, 't is simple, 't is not far from 
man 
In cloud, in sky, and at his feet at last. 

" Pursue with patience ! Roots of things 
you seek 
Upturn when least suspected they are 
near." 
A sense of something ! Softly ! It will 
speak. 
The spirit brings the truth you long to 
hear. 

The little plume, lost from a songster's 
wing, 
Has helped the mind dispel the doubt 
it bore. 
The spirit sent it to this lesson bring. 
And plain is now what seemed a myth 
before. 

322 




I 

HE years that have flown and 
are over, 
That now would be precious 
to me — 
More precious than ever to me, — 
Have changed like the plumes of the plo- 
ver, 
But were ever more sunny than drear ; 
Each one I remember a rover 

That in storm, as in sunshine, was dear ; 
Ere hoary December was over 

Came my crystalline, welcome new year. 



But since I have learned to look deeper 
For treasures in life's hidden ways, 
T' unravel life's manifold ways, 
323 



^^t pears t|)at |)at)e floton 



My soul has been sadly a sleeper, 

An oblivious dreamer before ; 
Now better my themes and my metre, 
Had I learned this in the days of the 
yore,— 
Had I known this ere years that are 
fleeter 
Neared the ultimate verge of my store. 



324 




€Jje Wat 

JULY, 1898 

HE war has come and thousands 
will be slain, 
And Cuba may be wrested soon 
from Spain. 
Our lands are broad enough and space to 

spare, — 
An island more, what signifies the gain ? 

To queen and emperors we make appeal, 
To rulers who desire the whole world's weal, 
To gather greatest minds from every nation 
To frame such laws as each will sign and 
seal. 

A council wise, with noble end in view, — 
Fraternity and fellowship, in lieu 
325 



C^e Wnx 



Of sword and slaughter, for the settlement 
Of points of difference that must accrue. 

A council international, supreme, 
A court to arbitrate in case extreme. 
Let rulers and crowned heads be of this 

court ; 
Such power and law the nations would 

esteem. 

The age has come for mind to rule the 
earth ; 

The wise must haste to bring about the 
birth 

Of law and rule, that swords to plough- 
shares turn ; 

Of beastly carnage there will be a dearth. 



Were I a soldier boy to go to war, 
I would be brave, when from the battle far. 
326 



dTde l^ar 



At smell of powder, boom of mauser gun, 
I 'd buckle breastplate on my back and 
run. 

If into mountain fastness I were driven, 
Like noble Spartans — till th' foe's ranks 

were riven — 
I too would tiger-like the death-blow give, 
Were there no chance to run away and 

live. 

If I a mountain pass were sent to hold, 
Behind a peak I would be lion-bold, 
And make a hole through which to point 

my gun, 
And sight the foe as it came on the run ; 

Then pick my men as they approached 

the gap, 
And down they 'd drop, and on each other 

lap. 

327 



€ht W&v 



My country served ! Ten thousand slain 

by one ! 
Let history say how I did load my gun. 



I sing no song of war, its loss, its recom- 
pense ; 

Mine are for arbitration, peace, and com- 
mon sense. 

Why train brave men like beasts and sav- 
ages to fight .'' 

Has mind no greater force than in the 
ages' night ? 

Good men have fought for love of coun- 
try, love of fame. 

Allured by those whom fortune favors by 
the name 

That follows great achievements, great 
success, to yield 

Their short lives, fighting bravely on the 
battlefield. 

328 



C[)e W^v 



Among the thousands to return to mother 

earth, 
Alas, to have lost life, lost name, and note 

of birth ! 
And numbers only mark the mounds 

grown o'er with grass, 
That only yearly are remembered by the 

mass. 



329 



55on l^opage 

O last year's nests the birds have 
bid adieu, 
The chill of night has pierced 
beneath their down ; 
'Tween naked limbs the owl's great eyes 
look through, 
To fright the little birds, the gray and 
brown. 

They flutter all and shake their feathery 
wings. 
They twitter, chirp, and quickly fly 
away; 
'Mid barren limbs and owl's eyes, ugly 
things 
With horrid hoot, they will not longer 
^ stay. 

330 



iSott laapaffe 



They flit about and gather up the stray, 
The old encourage and the weak up- 
lift; 
The busy elders help their young this way, 
Great flocks appear, unite, then thither 
drift. 

They meet in counsel, wisely plan together 

To soon set sail upon the sea of air. 
And voyage make while yet the autumn 
weather 
Will speed their sails to climes remote 
and fair. 

A sorry sight these skeletons of bowers, 
Where purple grapes in luscious clus- 
ters hung, 
The bare, ambitious vine on treetop tow- 
ers. 
Its weeping withes are to the breezes 
flung. 

331 



^on ©opaffe 



How rich is mother earth, prolific here ! 
Her giant forest trees their roots deep 
thrust 
Into her ample bosom, yet they fear 
To tempest's rage their high, proud 
heads to trust, 

And spread long gnarled and twisted roots 
'neath stone, 
And tangled tufts and shrubs beneath 
her crust ; 
Here step with care, or trip and be o'er- 
thrown ; 
A foe in ambush makes one bite the dust. 

'Gainst boreal buffets, when the storm 
fiends roar. 
They doubly fortify their lofty heads, 
Earth's nourishment absorb by every pore, 
The deep-drawn draught through every 
fibre threads. 

332 



^ott ?9opag;e 



They separate with greed what each likes 
best 
From her abundant stores, for all 
enough ; 
Courage and prowess gain, and strength 
to test 
Marauding foes and cool their force 
rebuff. 

The colored leaves come rustling down in 
showers. 
Talking the while of summer and the 
sun; 
They nestle close to cover up the flowers. 
And bare the branches are where they 
had hung. 

The trees, stripped of their robes, up- 
stretch their limbs, 
And bravely challenge blasts that threat 
to come. 

333 



^011 ^opap 



Strong armed and high, they dauntless 
voice new hymns, 
More weird than raven's croak or muf- 
fled drum. 

They sing of wars with Boreas waged 
long past, 
With scorn of stealthy foes that un- 
seen creep 
Into their camp to wrench, uproot, and 
blast, 
To take them unawares with one fell 
sweep ; 

Of struggles fierce, that tore the heart of 
things, 
That bowed their oldest warrior's hoary 
head, 
Their youth bore down ; but youth elastic 
springs 
Against the foe, with sinewy arms out- 
spread. 

334 



^on ©opap 



These trees old warriors all have been. 
They sing 
Of struggles with the tempests, hail, and 
rain ; 
The woodman's axe has girdled many a 
ring 
About their boles, and the fierce hurri- 
cane 

Destroyed what life remained ; or, by slow 
death, 
Existence, sapless, was by blight cut off ; 
But here are trees that stem the blast as 
breath 
Of summer airs, nor deign their plumes 
to doff. 

The old red oak now smote his mighty 
chest, 
And bowed his plumed head. Through 
all the camp 

335 



^on ©oj)a5e 



There rolled the thunder, throbbing to- 
ward the west ; 
The cloudcaps burst, forth shone day's 
flaming lamp. 

Then silence reigned. Again the monarch 
old 
Bowed to his stalwart youths and sap- 
ling braves. 
They changed to sober threne, from war- 
song bold. 
And sighed and soughed o'er fallen 
heroes' graves. 

And last of all the trees, one aged oak. 

Regardless of the self-defensive thorns. 
The fastenings of his gorgeous mantle 
broke. 
And dropped it down to cover his 
a-corns. 



33^ 



^on ©opaffc 



While yet the camp 's astir and revels 
hold, 
The dead lamented, and new wars pro- 
claimed. 
The fleet of birds, from Boreas' regions 
cold, 
And from the east and west, except 
the maimed, 

All speeding sailed. Speed on, you airy 
things ! 
To fairer lands, where flowers forever 
bloom, 
Where storms are tempered to your flut- 
tering wings, 
Where wars have ceased, and strife has 
met its doom. 



337 



<©n ^mountain i^eigljtjef 




HE fairest flowers bloom abun- 
dantly 
Far, far above the level of the 
sea, 
Above the clouds on heights one seldom 

seeks, 
Upon the lofty mountain's snow-capped 
peaks. 

They creep along and cling to granite 

ledges, 
And line the crevices, the storm-fiend 

dredges ; 
They have a dainty brilliance all their 

own 
That few, at such great height, can look 

upon. 

338 



^ucf) epe^ are ti^ep 



INCE Petrarch, Laura's eyes 

have had a rest. 
No poet dares, with modern eyes, 
to test 
The language, rhymes, and measures all 

exhaust j 
To speak of Laura's eyes the poet's 
lost. 
But now a Laura comes, the last and best ; 
Should you seek her, her eyes would pay 

the quest. 
They would you lead to follow her behest, 
And you would sing her praise at any 
cost. 

Such eyes are they. 

They are not blue, they are not black, but 
lest 

339 



^ttcK) epes are t^cp 



The color you should think not manifest, 
I '11 say they 're large, and liquid, and 

not crossed. 
And shine like stars upon a sea-wave 
tossed, 
And answer true, direct, when she 's ad- 
dressed, 

Such eyes are they. 



340 




€f)e iloBiiiiSf fjabe come 

|HE lawn looks brighter now the 
robin 's here. 
He says the spring will sooner 
come this year ; 
He 's making preparations for his nest. 
How sweet his voice ! His mate is wait- 
ing near. 

We whistle for him ; very soon he comes, 
Remembers where, last year, he found the 

crumbs, 
Also that Yoko may contest his right. 
Poor can is ! dead and buried out of sight. 

The storm may catch you, robin, make you 

shiver. 
The rain rush down your tree, a rapid 

river, 

341 



W^t Eobinfi jjaDe come 



Your nest destroy, and scatter all the 

straws ; 
You still will sing, without a qualm or 

quiver. 

A plumed philosopher, from whom we 

take 
The lesson of submission, when at stake, 
Inevitable, our best interests are. 
Content ourselves, we others happy make. 



342 



MAR 21 1903 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

illliilillllilllililillill 

015 939 288 






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